


English Rose

by MercuryWaters



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cuddling, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Harry works at a high-end flower shop, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add smut tags when I get to that, Kissing, Louis works at Google Headquarters with Zayn and Liam, M/M, Niall is a good friend and adorably endearing as usual, they all live in London
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-08 00:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5476487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryWaters/pseuds/MercuryWaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ok, what’s your brother's name?” Harry calmly asked.</p><p>The girl looked confused, before realizing that Harry was planning to search through her contacts to find him. </p><p>“Oh, umm, he—he’s in my contacts as… Boo Bear,” the girl laughed a little and Harry smiled, glad to see that the events of the night hadn’t completely broken her spirit. He decided not to question the nickname before calling the number.</p><p>---</p><p>Or the AU where Louis is a Google team member and Harry is a flower shop consultant. They meet at a Script concert, through less than ideal circumstances, and leave with more than just song lyrics stuck in their heads. (They can't stop thinking about each other. Just in case that wasn't clear.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for the title was Ed Sheeran's song of the same name (GREAT TUNE!), which doesn't necessarily apply to this fic, but it's where I got the idea for it! Anyways, this story will have at least 12 chapters (probably more) and I'm using an image gallery for it, so if you see an underlined word, click the link for fun! (If you want to!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a trigger warning for light physical violence and allusions to sexual assault (it's nothing graphic, I promise). There's really only gonna be "violence" in the first chapter; this story is pretty lighthearted and fluffy, so don't worry about it being too dark!

“THEY’RE ON FIRE TONIGHT!” Niall yelled, voice nearly getting lost among the roaring crowd.

“Yeah, they’re great!” Harry failed to say with enthusiasm.

They were at a Script concert, which Niall had won tickets to for being the ninth caller in a local radio station’s giveaway contest. Unbeknownst to the radio station, Niall had bettered his odds at winning by borrowing the phone of practically everyone on their street and typing the number into each one, ready to hit “Send” as soon the contest began. He _really_ liked The Script.

As soon as he won, he’d used one of the hundred phones laying in front of him to call Harry and relay the news.

“HARRY!” Niall screamed into the phone.

“Ouch! Hold on, I have to turn down my volume if you’re gonna be shouting the whole time again. I think I actually acquired hearing loss from the last one.”

Harry recalled the last time Niall had rung him, excited about the half-price burritos at Chipotle, which Harry had only figured out after the ringing in his ears had died down.

“Oh bugger off, grandpa! Is that any way to treat your best mate?” Niall playfully questioned,  “Especially when I just won us front row tickets to The Script concert this Friday?”

Harry squeezed his phone between his ear and shoulder as he locked the door of the flower shop, finally finished working after a long day. “You didn’t!” Harry laughed. He had thought that winning those tickets was a longshot. He should know better than to count Niall out on anything, especially after almost 10 years of knowing the scheming Irishman.

“Of course I did! Now get back to the flat so we can celebrate properly— with cheap alcohol and FIFA.”

So here they were, after driving two hours from London to Thetford, front row at a Script concert. Harry should be happy, ecstatic even. He loves The Script and he loves Niall, but he can’t shake the lingering feeling of sadness that seemed to settle over his body like a blanket of freshly fallen snow. _What a lame comparison_ , Harry thought, _a snow blanket of sadness_.

A month ago, he found out that his boyfriend of 6 months had been cheating on him, for 5 of those 6 months. Two weeks ago, the flower shop he works at started hiring for the upcoming season, leaving Harry with 3 rookies to train. Last week, upon seeing an elderly woman struggling to carry all her groceries, he’d accidentally parked in a restricted area. After helping her load her purchases (and receiving a kiss on the cheek for being “such a generous boy”), he’d returned to his car to find a £120 fine for a parking violation taped to his windshield. And to top it all off, yesterday he’d received the official invitation to his sister’s wedding, reminding him just how pathetic his own love life is.

Not that he isn’t extremely excited for Gemma’s wedding. He’d practically fainted out of sheer happiness when he heard that her boyfriend had proposed. It’s just that luck doesn’t seem to be on Harry’s side lately, and it’s caused his usually cheerful exterior to crumble. He’s trying not to dwell on the past, he’s trying to take Niall’s advice (“move forward and show that arsehole excuse of an ex that he had absolutely no effect on you!”), but these little inconveniences aren’t helping him. In fact, these little inconveniences are all he can think about while sitting front row at a concert for one of his favorite bands. It sucks. It really sucks.

“You alright, mate?” Niall asked loudly, concern etched on his features as he looked into Harry’s eyes. He took off his [sunglasses](http://i.imgur.com/Jq7L9u5.jpg) and hooked them onto the V-neck of his white t-shirt, as if ditching the shades would allow him to better understand Harry’s strange mood.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Harry attempted to sound at ease, “I’ll be back. I need to... umm… have a wee,” Harry shouted, hoping his friend could hear him over the noise. Niall gave him an understanding nod and Harry started to make his way through the maze of people in the crowded field.

 

\------

 

Harry had walked for quite some time away from the thunderous crowd, before finally spotting a row of portable toilets near the trees. The concert was at [Thetford Forest](http://i.imgur.com/ITNWLWP.png), an outdoor venue, so there weren’t any easily-accessible, indoor bathrooms around. Harry silently wondered if all the other concert-goers in need of a toilet just went in the trees closer to stage, as the area he was currently in was completely deserted and pretty far away from the source of entertainment.

Night had fallen and the stars were out, Harry could see more of them than he ever could in London. It was early November, and the temperature had been uncharacteristically warm for an autumn day. Occasionally, a comfortable breeze would make an appearance, gently tousling Harry’s curls. It would be beautiful, Harry thought, the night sky and the faint sound of the Script singing “For the First Time” mingling with the light wind, but he couldn’t appreciate it over the creepy atmosphere surrounding the secluded porta-potties. _They’re portable toilets, Styles. Get a grip_. He thought, chastising himself for being so easily frightened. Shaking his head, as if it would help to rid the uneasy feeling he had, Harry opened the door to the first toilet in the row, and stepped one [suede-booted](http://i.imgur.com/W0KsUKd.png) foot in—

“Get away from me!” Harry suddenly heard a female voice cry from nearby. He turned around and followed the sound of the voice, adrenaline starting to fill his veins at the level of distress present in her voice.

“Just give me a kiss, come on Lottie! I know you’ve been missing me,” a male voice slurred.

Harry sped up, following the voices to the end of the line of toilets, where an unpleasant scene was unfolding before him.

Behind the last toilet in the row, a brunette male, looking to be about Harry’s age, wearing what Harry referred to as “typical tool garb” (khaki shorts and a plaid button-up shirt paired with Sperry topsiders) had a girl pinned by her wrists against the plastic wall of the porta-potty. The guy was clearly drunk, the overwhelming smell of beer emanating from his body enough to clue Harry in, even if he hadn’t already heard the slur of his words.

The girl was pretty, her hair so blonde it was almost white. She was wearing jeans and a simple Script t-shirt with a black Adidas jacket and a pair of white Adidas trainers to match. Harry guessed that she was around 18, but the makeup she was wearing could’ve fooled people into believing she was older. She was crying while struggling to free herself from the drunken man’s grasp.

Harry sprang into action almost immediately.

“HEY! Get the hell away from her!” Harry shouted, walking closer to the pair.

The man looked surprised to see anyone this far away from the stage. His confused expression quickly contorted into a smirk. _What an arsehole_ , Harry thought.

“Hey, dude, there’s nothing to see here. My girlfriend’s just being whiny, you know how it is, why don’t you go back and enjoy the concert, forget what you see here,” he said with the confidence of a rich boy who always got what he wanted, someone who’s never heard ‘no’ before in his life. Harry hated him.

“Listen, _dude_ , I’m not going anywhere until you take your hands off of her and step away.”

Harry tried to remain calm, he didn’t want to reveal any of his nervousness through his speech. This was a difficult task, as his heart was beating faster than that time Niall had almost caught their flat on fire while attempting a new guacamole recipe (a situation that still makes no sense to Harry, since no part of the guacamole-making process requires flame).

The guy chuckled (Harry _really_ hates him) and, surprisingly, did as Harry asked. Harry was just about to exhale a sigh of relief when the guy’s fist connected with his jaw. It wasn’t that hard of a blow, the man was drunk, and Harry suspected that even if he hadn’t been drunk, his punch would’ve been weak, but Harry was caught off guard nonetheless. The guy attempted to hit him again, but this time Harry ducked, avoiding the blow, before landing a solid punch straight to the drunk’s face.

In what was likely a combination of both alcohol and the force of Harry’s punch (although Harry would like to believe that it was the result of the latter alone), the man was knocked out, lying limply on the grass.

Not missing a beat, Harry stepped over him and walked closer to the blonde girl. She was sitting on the ground with her back against the wall. Her knees were bent up, and her head was down, resting against them. She was sobbing. Harry felt a wave of both sadness and panic rush over him. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in this situation, but he felt that the most important task was to comfort her.

Harry knelt down and reached to touch the girl’s shoulder before stopping himself. He wasn’t sure that touching her was the best idea, especially after what had just happened. He settled for a friendly introduction and an attempt at soothing her.

“Hello. I’m Harry. S’gonna be alright, I promise,” he said softly.

The girl looked up at him, her makeup only slightly smeared from shed tears. Harry smiled at her, offering a hand to help her up. She accepted it, and, as soon as she was standing, pulled Harry into a tight hug, startling him just a little. She grasped onto the back of his plaid flannel shirt, holding firmly. He reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her waist and patting her back gently. After a few seconds, she took a step back and looked into his eyes, having to tilt her head up to do so since she was considerably shorter.

“Thank you, Harry. So much,” she said, looking at him sincerely, a bit of trepidation in her eyes, “I honestly don’t know how to properly thank you for—” her eyes traveled away from Harry’s and down to the unconscious man lying on the grass about 10 steps away from them. She buried her face in her hands, starting to cry again.

“Hey,” Harry stepped closer to her, gently touching her shoulder, “Did you come here with him? Or is there somebody I can call for you?” he asked.

“M-my brother,” she said, reaching into her pocket and handing Harry her iPhone. She seemed too distraught to deal with calling her brother and explaining the situation. Harry took the phone and, ignoring the 12 missed call notifications on her screen, swiped to the right. There was thankfully no passcode.

“Okay, what’s your brother’s name?” Harry calmly asked.

The girl looked confused, before realizing that Harry was planning to search through her contacts to find him.

“Oh, umm, he—he’s in my contacts as… Boo Bear,” the girl laughed a little and Harry smiled, glad to see that the events of the night hadn’t completely broken her spirit. He decided not to question the nickname before calling the number.

Barely a ring had passed before a high-pitched, somewhat raspy male voice picked up.

“Lottie?! Thank God, I was worried sick! Are you okay? You’ve been gone for a half hour, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he sounded panicked and out of breath, like he’d been running around desperately searching for his sister, “You missed ‘For the First Time’, your favorite! I thought you were just going to the bathroom! Was it the tacos? I told you that those mess with your system!” he exclaimed, “Still, you couldn’t have just texted me? Or answered one of my calls? Oh my God, just tell me you’re okay. I’m on the verge of a heart attack.”

Harry could barely process the 93 questions that had just been thrown at him, but he was endeared by the concern that the man had for his sister. He thought about how to respond without creating more worry. He settled with, “She’s okay.”

The line was silent for about 10 seconds before the voice was back.

“Who is this? Are you with my sister?”

The man sounded suspicious and almost more worried than when he had first picked up. And, yeah, maybe short and sweet wasn’t the route Harry should’ve taken.

“Umm… I’m Harry. Harry Styles. Though you probably don’t care about my last name,” Harry chuckled at his own awkwardness before continuing, “I don’t even know why I said that, but yeah I’m with your sister. And she’s okay! So don’t worry! Yeah, she’s fine. But I think you should come meet us at the toilets, there’s—something happened,” Harry finished, hoping he didn’t sound too cryptic.

“Something happened? That’s very ominous, Harry Styles,” and okay, maybe Harry _did_ sound too cryptic, “If she’s okay, like you said, why can’t she talk to me herself?” the man questioned.

“She really is fine! I promise, she just—she can’t talk because she’s crying and I—“

“She’s crying? Did you do something to her?! I swear to God—“

“No! I didn’t do anything to her, I swear—“

Lottie grabbed the phone out of Harry’s hand, clearly detecting that this conversation was getting nowhere, especially with Harry’s sudden inability to form a proper sentence and her brother’s skepticism.

“Louis…. Yes I’m okay, Grant was here……. I know! He cornered me against a porta-potty, the bastard.... I don’t know, he tried to…… No, Harry stopped him before he did anything…… Yeah. Harry. As in the one you were just interrogating…… Louis, just meet us at the toilets!” Lottie exasperatedly hung up, and placed the phone back in her pocket.

“Sorry, he’s not usually like that,” Lottie apologized, “He’s going to meet me here. Would you—would you maybe, if it’s not too much to ask, wait for him to get here? I just don’t want him,” Lottie gestured to the unconscious drunk lying on the ground, “to wake up while I’m here alone.”

“Of course. ‘Swhat I was planning on doing anyway,” Harry smiled.

“Thank you.”

No longer crying, Lottie sat down on the grass.

“I don’t know how long he’ll be, and I’m tired of standing,” she reasoned.

Harry nodded and sat down next to her. They sat for a few minutes in a comfortable silence before Lottie spoke again.

“My name’s Lottie, by the way. Lottie Tomlinson. And, despite what you may think based on first impression, I’m a total badass. I don’t usually cry. Ever. This situation was just a little bit fucked up and I was caught off guard. That’s all.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Lottie,” Harry smiled, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back against the porta-potty wall, “And you don’t have to explain yourself to me. That guy’s an idiot. And he was being creepy. I probably would’ve cried too. Definitely doesn’t call for a revocation of your Total Badass Club membership.”

Lottie laughed and Harry felt a surge of relief run through him. He wasn’t sure if it was too soon for humor, regardless of how bad his jokes might be.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. At Harry’s confused expression, she continued, “Grant. He called me his girlfriend. We aren’t together. We were, but we aren’t anymore. I just wanted you to know.”

“I didn’t think that he was. Your boyfriend, I mean. I sense that you have far better taste than him,” Harry stated, “Especially given his horrible fashion sense.”

Lottie laughed, “It’s the worst, isn’t it?”

As the pair giggled, Harry heard footsteps quickly approaching. He looked up to see a man, Lottie’s brother he presumed, walking towards them. Harry practically had to hold his jaw with his hand to keep it from dropping. He was the most beautiful human Harry had ever seen. He had light brown hair, feathering in a perfectly crafted fringe across his forehead, and the faint traces of stubble on his chin. He was [wearing](http://i.imgur.com/wZHlOpJ.jpg) a black t-shirt with the white Adidas logo on the front, a pair of extremely tight-fitting black skinny jeans that were cuffed at the ankles, and some blue Adidas trainers. _Adidas fanaticism must run in the family_ , Harry thought. The man had piercing blue eyes, and his cheekbones… Harry wondered if it was possible for someone’s cheekbones to cut diamond. If it was, this guy’s cheekbones could do it.

“Louis!” Lottie shouted, jumping up and running into her brother’s arms.

Louis wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. Lottie started sobbing again and buried her face into Louis’ neck.

“You’re okay. Hey, it’s gonna be alright,” Louis cooed soothingly, his head resting atop hers and his eyes closed tightly. The embrace lasted for about a minute before Harry tried (and failed) to stand without interrupting the moment.

As Harry stood up, Louis opened his eyes, looking directly into Harry’s.

“You must be Harry Styles,” he stated with a wary smile, gently untangling from his sister. Lottie wiped her eyes and stepped to the side, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets.

Harry nodded and smiled back at Louis. Louis stepped closer, extending his arm and offering his hand.

“I’m Louis Tomlinson, Lottie’s brother,” he said. Harry took his hand, expecting a traditional introductory shake. Instead, Louis sandwiched Harry’s hand between both of his own and gently squeezed, pulling him closer.

“Thank you so much for helping her,” Louis looked into Harry’s eyes sincerely, “And I wanted to apologize for earlier, on the phone… for being rude,” Louis looked to his left, where Lottie was lightheartedly glaring at him, clearly expecting a better apology for Harry. He chuckled and Harry thought he would die from the sheer beauty of that tiny action alone. He released Harry’s hand, and Harry attempted to hide his feeling of disappointment from the loss of contact.

“I swear I’m not usually an arsehole, I just—I didn’t know where she was and then you answered her phone and I panicked. I’m sorry. I’m very protective of my siblings,” Louis explained.

“Some might say OVERprotective,” Lottie added.

“Lottie, it pays to be an overprotective brother when your sister chooses to date creepy douchebags who dress exclusively in frat-boy attire, have obsessive tendencies, and, apparently, are sexual predators,” Louis said sternly, glowering at his sister. Lottie looked to the ground, seeming to know better than to fight him on this particular topic.

“Anyways,” Louis looked back at Harry, “I really am sorry.”

“S’okay, really. No need to apologize. I would’ve reacted the same way, you know – had my sister gone missing and had a mysterious stranger answered her phone. I get it,” Harry managed to get out. He was still awestruck by the man standing in front of him.

Just then, Harry’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. He took it out as Niall’s contact photo flashed across the screen. And, _shit_ , Harry thought, _Niall_.

Harry had somehow completely forgotten that he was with Niall. And that he was at a concert. And that said concert was most likely over by now. And pretty much everything except for how exceptionally gorgeous Louis Tomlinson was.

“Excuse me, I have to answer this real quick, my mate’s probably wondering where I am. I sort’ve like – abandoned him earlier,” Harry explained. Louis nodded understandingly, waving him off to answer the call.

Harry pushed answer.

“Hello? Niall?”

“HARRY! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, MATE?!” Niall screamed through the line.

“Ouch! Jesus, Niall, what did I tell you about yelling into the phone?” Harry scolded, knowing that his reprimand was useless.

“I’m sorry! I can barely hear anything! I’m stuck in the middle of the crowd, everyone’s leaving! Where are you? You missed the end of the show! And the encore!”

“Niall, the encore is part of the end of the show. It’s redundant to say that I missed both.” Harry replied, holding back his laughter. He _loved_ annoying Niall.

“Oh, would you just shut up and tell me where you are?” Niall griped.

“I’m by the toilets,” Harry chuckled, “Can you meet me here? I’ll explain everything then," Upon Niall’s agreement, Harry ended the call.

He put the phone back in his pocket and walked over to the siblings, who seemed to be playfully bickering. Hearing Harry approach, they both turned around, waiting for him to say something.

“My friend is meeting me here. So, you know— if you need to leave, I understand. Or, like, if you _want_ to leave, I understand... Or, yeah. To recap, leaving is an understandable thing to do,” Harry explained, internally kicking himself at his awkward phrasing.

The Tomlinsons were silent for a stretch of time before Louis glanced at his sister and began to speak.

“I think he’s trying to get rid of us,” Louis said to Lottie, who giggled.

“No! No, no, that’s not what I meant! I just meant, you know—I don’t want you to feel obligated to wait with me. Like, if you are on a time schedule, or like, if you just don’t feel like waiting with me, I get it,” Harry struggled to explain, he was distressed, not wanting to offend either of the siblings, “I didn’t mean—“

“Hey,” Louis placed one hand on each of Harry’s shoulders, looking into his eyes, “I was kidding, don’t worry. Just breathe,” he smiled softly at Harry.

“We’ll wait with you, it’s really no bother. And it’s the least I can do to repay you,” Louis stated, eyes still locked with Harry’s.

“Besides, you waited for Louis to meet me. It’s only fair that I do the same for your friend!” Lottie supplied.

“Okay,” Harry smiled, his heartrate finally starting to slow, “Thank you.”

 

\------

 

As they waited for Niall to arrive, Harry, Louis, and Lottie settled back down on the damp grass and engaged in casual conversation.

“So, Harry, are you from Thetford?” Lottie asked, her head resting against her brother’s shoulder. They sat in a row with Louis in the middle and Harry found himself desperately wishing that he too could lean on him.

“No, I’m from Cheshire. Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. Well—I was born in Holmes Chapel, I-I don’t live there now,” Harry silently scolded himself for choosing this moment to lose all communication skills. He’s usually pretty smooth with conversation, easily making friends with his slow, drawn-out manner of speaking. If social skills were peanut butter, Harry’s were generally creamy. Right now, they were extra crunchy.

 _Stop comparing yourself to peanut butter and spit it out_ , Harry thought.

“I live in London,” he finished, finally.

“No way! That’s where Louis lives!” Lottie sat up, eyes wide with excitement.

“Really?” Harry asked, turning towards Louis with surprise clear in his expression. He knew that Louis living in London isn’t _that_ coincidental, given the city’s massive population, but he found it strange that he chose this concert to attend.

“How did you decide to buy tickets for the Thetford concert?” Harry asked, “Why not go to one of the dates at the O2?”

“The tickets actually belonged to one of my flatmates, Zayn. He was planning on taking his girlfriend but they broke up last week,” Louis explained, “He chose this date because it would’ve been on their 2 year anniversary, and she loved The Script. It was gonna be this huge romantic gesture, but everything sort of fell through with the breakup. So, Zayn gave me his tickets, claiming that he ‘didn’t want to worsen his heartbreak’.”

“Because when a heart breaks, it don’t break even,” Harry joked, reciting The Script’s song lyrics.

His attempt at humor was followed by complete silence, a fact Harry would’ve been self-conscious about had Louis and Lottie not made eye contact before bursting into hysterical laughter, only seconds later.

“Oh my God, that might have been the worst joke I’ve ever heard in my life,” Louis managed to get out through his giggles.

Harry was so enraptured by Louis’ laughter that he failed to notice Niall approaching the row of toilets.

“There you are, mate! I was worried sick,” Niall glanced to the row of toilets, brow wrinkling as if he was on the verge of drawing an epic conclusion, “Was it the tacos? I told you that those mess with your system!”

“No! Oh my God, no,” Harry blushed bright red, as Louis chuckled beside him.

“That’s what I said! About the tacos, I mean!” Louis laughed, standing up. Harry and Lottie followed his lead, both brushing the dirt off their bums.

At Louis’ voice, Niall seemed to finally realize that Harry wasn’t alone, glancing between him and the siblings confusedly.

“Right,” Harry said, deciding that now would probably be the appropriate time for introductions, “Niall, these are my friends Louis and Lottie. I just met them. They live in London too.”

“Actually, _Louis_ lives in London, I still live at home in Doncaster,” Lottie corrected, a fact that Harry had apparently failed to pick up on.

“Oops,” Harry smiled apologetically at her, “Sorry, _Louis_ lives in London, and Lottie lives in Doncaster. Louis, Lottie, this is my flatmate, Niall,” Harry finished.

“Wow, Harry. I really expected more from you. That introduction was absolutely lame!” Niall stepped up to Louis, extending an arm, “I’m Niall Horan. Resident Irishman. Nando’s fanboy. Undefeated FIFA champion. Also, Harry’s flatmate. Good to meet you,” Niall grasped Louis’ hand and they shook, both barely containing their laughter at the well-rehearsed introduction.

“Good to meet you, Niall,” Louis said, shaking his hand.

Niall greeted Lottie as well, and then Harry launched into explaining the unfortunate situation that led to him meeting the siblings.

“What a tool,” Niall said, shaking his head and looking down disdainfully at Grant, who was still laying forgotten on the ground a short distance from them. He turned to Lottie.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Lottie smiled and nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay. I just want to get away from him, to be honest.”

“Then why don’t we get going?” Louis suggested.

“Should we just leave him here?” Harry wondered aloud, gesturing to Grant.

“That’s what we _should_ do, what he deserves,” Louis scowled at Grant’s body, then looked back up at Harry, his expression softening, “But we’re better than that,” Louis concluded. “I texted one of his friends, who very graciously agreed to pick up their piece of trash. But we’re not waiting for his ride to get here, I’ve done enough for him already. Let’s go.”

The group followed Louis away from the toilets and towards the mass exodus of people trekking to their cars. They started small talking, Harry cackling at just about everything that came out of Louis’ mouth for the 15 minutes that they walked. Niall looked between the two of them, catching Harry’s eyes and smirking. Harry rolled his own and mouthed “ _Don’t_ ”. The blond laughed at Harry’s dire expression, causing Louis to eye the pair with a confused smile.

They were almost to the carpark when Harry tripped over a piece of uneven terrain, ready to plummet to the grass and die of embarrassment. Before he got too close to the ground, a pair of hands caught under his armpits and hauled him up. Harry caught his breath and turned around, finding a pair of worried blue eyes.

“You okay?” Louis asked, looking at Harry with concern. He gently rubbed his hands up and down Harry’s biceps over the soft material of his flannel shirt.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you,” Harry smiled.

“No problem," Louis responded, mirroring Harry’s expression.

Niall and Lottie exchanged looks of pure mischief, clearly picking up on the signals that were flying between Louis and Harry.

 

\------

 

They arrived at the carpark, a light breeze carrying across the pavement. When they reached Louis’ car, Harry realized that they would actually have to separate, and yeah, he wasn’t ready for that.

“Alright lads, I guess this is where we part ways,” Niall announced simply, as if Harry’s life wasn’t about to end. Harry knew he was being dramatic, but he _really_ didn’t want to stop talking to Louis.

“Well, it was nice meeting both of you. Thanks again, Harry. Seriously. I owe you,” Lottie planted a quick kiss on Harry’s cheek and waved goodbye, giving Niall a suspicious look, before rushing over to Louis’ car.

“I’ve gotta…. get in the car! Yeah, the car! I’m freezing! I think I might be coming down with something dreadful!” Niall made a horrible attempt at a fake cough before continuing, “It was nice meeting you, Louis!” Niall waved goodbye and practically sprinted to Harry’s car, parked only a few rows over, leaving Louis and Harry alone in the darkness.

Before Harry could process his friend’s strange behavior or have a mental breakdown at the thought of losing contact with Louis forever, Louis turned to Harry, tapping his elbow to get his attention.

“Can I use your phone?” he asked. Harry took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, handing it to Louis compliantly, his brow furrowed.

Louis appeared to be dialing a number. _Maybe his phone’s dead and he needs to call someone_ , Harry guessed.

He was quickly proven wrong when Louis, seeming pleased with himself, relocked the phone.

“Listen, Harry Styles. If there’s anything you need, like anything, ever, call me. My number’s in your contacts,” Louis smiled and handed Harry his phone, “Thank you so much. I can’t say it enough.”

“It was no problem, Louis, really,” Harry said genuinely.

“Harry,” Louis looked at him exasperatedly, “Please. Just let me thank you.”

“Okay, okay! I accept your gratitude! Or-or I recognize your thankfulness? I don’t know what I’m supposed to say really—” Harry started to ramble before Louis interrupted, giggling.

“Goodbye, Harry,” Louis said with a small smile, “I’m glad I met you.” He added quietly, before turning around and heading towards his car and Lottie.

“Goodbye.”

It wasn’t enough. Harry wanted more. He wanted to see more of Louis, like a lot more of Louis, and having his number solely for emergency usage wasn’t enough.

“Louis!” Harry shouted, as Louis reached for the handle to his car door. Louis turned back around, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows.

“What if I don’t need anything, but I still want to call you?” Harry asked boldly.

Louis stared at him for about two seconds before Harry started to completely regret being so risky.

He didn’t even know if Louis was into guys. Or if he was single. Or if he had any interest in Harry whatsoever, especially after Harry had presented himself as an awkward loser for the greater part of the night.

“I-I’m sorry—I didn’t—that was so forward. That was stupid, I’m sorry, just—just forget I asked, yeah? Just forget about this whole conversation, we can pretend it never happened and I promise I won’t call you, I swear—“ Harry rambled on for what seemed like an eternity of humiliation and shame until Louis walked over to him and interrupted, once again placing a hand on each of Harry’s shoulders and looking into his eyes.

“Hey. Breathe, Harold. Breathe,” Louis smiled at him. Harry followed his instructions, and inhaled deeply.

“My name’s just Harry,” He said on the exhale.

“I know it is,” Louis smirked, “And you can, if you want. Whenever you want,” he finished.

“What?” Harry was more confused by this conversation than Niall’s guacamole-fire disaster.

“Call me,” Louis stated plainly, “You can call me anytime you want, not just if you need something,” he took a step back, dropping his hands from Harry’s shoulders, and smiled up at the taller boy.

Harry was so elated, he thought he might burst. He felt like he was on the precipice of some giant, historic change, like he had just found the first piece of evidence in a huge investigation. He knows that he just met Louis, like, not even an hour ago. And he knows that Louis most likely doesn’t feel even remotely the same way about Harry as Harry does about him, but he didn’t deny him. And Harry took that as a win.

Before he could overthink it, Harry pulled Louis into an embrace, wrapping his arms around his waist. Louis seemed shocked at first, but within seconds, he relaxed under Harry’s arms and reached up to wrap his own around Harry’s neck.

The hug lasted for 8 seconds, Harry counted.

It was the best 8 seconds of his life.

Louis felt so warm in his arms, and their bodies fit together perfectly. When Louis finally loosened his grip and took a step back, Harry wanted to pull him back in for another hug immediately, missing the contact. _God, you’re embarrassing_ , Harry thought.

“Thank you, again. Be careful driving back, okay? The roads are probably a mess with all these people leaving,” Louis gestured to the chaotic carpark.

“Are you questioning my driving skills, Louis? Because I’ll have you know that it only took me 3 tries to pass my driving test,” Harry announced with mock pride.

“Oh really?! Well, I’d be a fool to question the superior driving abilities of someone who passed their test in only 3 tries!” Louis teased, “I’m now confident that you will make it back to London in one piece.” They both giggled wildly, and Harry thought it was lovely how their individual laughs mingled in the air, becoming one delightful noise.

“Goodbye, Louis. Again,” Harry said, not really wanting to say it at all.

“Goodbye, Harry,” Louis smiled, “Again.” And with that, he once again turned around and walked to his car, this time for good.

Harry waited until Louis got into his car before heading back to his own and Niall.

“So…. You and Louis—” Niall began.

“Don’t even start,” Harry tried to maintain a straight face as he fastened his seatbelt. Niall cackled from the passenger seat.

“Oh, come on! We have to talk about it. I thought you two were gonna run off and get married at some point during our walk,” Niall joked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ni,” Harry mock-scolded, “There’s no way we could’ve found in officiator in that mess of people.”

The boys laughed uncontrollably as Harry pulled out of his parking space.

 

\------

 

An hour into the drive back to London, with Louis’ number in his contacts and Niall softly snoring beside him in the passenger seat, Harry felt happy. Maybe, just maybe, his luck was turning around.

“Take that, snow blanket of sadness,” Harry quietly celebrated.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So... Are you gonna tell me about you and Harry or—”

“Don’t even start,” Louis shot his sister a warning glance.

They were about an hour into their drive back to London after the Script concert, and honestly, Louis was shocked that he’d gotten this far without suffering through an interrogation by Lottie.

“Oh, come on! You have to tell me about it. We still have an hour of driving left! That’s plenty of time to tell me how you’re gonna ask him out, and how you’re gonna ask him to move in with you, and how you’re gonna propose—”

“Lottie! Jesus, you are absolutely ridiculous, you know that?” Louis interrupted, “You realize I just met the guy, right? Like not even 2 hours ago.”

The fact of the matter is that Louis was right. Lottie _is_ ridiculous. The other fact of the matter is that she might not be _that_ ridiculous. Louis had started thinking about how to ask Harry out from the second he got in his car. Right after the hug that’s been replaying in his mind from the moment it happened.

It had lasted 8 seconds before Louis decided that he should probably detach himself or risk never being able to let go.

It was the best 8 seconds of his life.

“When you two tie the knot, I hope you remember this conversation. It’ll make a good story for the reception,” Lottie mumbled, disrupting Louis’ hug reminiscence.

“What makes you think you’ll be invited to my wedding reception?”

“What?!” Lottie turned to face Louis, seatbelt straining against her Script t-shirt, “You _have_ to invite me! I’m your sister! Your _favorite_ sister!” Lottie argued indignantly.

Louis smirked, proud at himself for effectively navigating the conversation away from Harry Styles.

“Favorite? I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Lots,” Louis said, squinting his eyes in mock-contemplation, as if he was actually comparing the love he has for each of his siblings, “Fiz sent me a very nice jumper last month as a congratulations for the completion of my last work project. And the twins are just so adorable, it’s hard to compete with them.”

Lottie pouted and turned towards the window, crossing her arms against her chest like a petulant child. Louis couldn’t help but feel bad, releasing a sigh before speaking again.

“Oh come on, I’m only joking. If I didn’t like you, why would I have taken you to the concert?”

Lottie glared at him, “You took me to the concert because Liam was busy and you don’t have a boyfriend to go on dates with. Which brings us back to Harry.”

“Damnit,” Louis grumbled in frustration as Lottie cackled from the passenger seat.

“Did you honestly think you could get out of my interrogation by distracting me with your bogus sibling rankings? I’m smarter than that, Lou!” Lottie shouted victoriously, “Now, let’s talk about Harry. You like him, yeah?”

“I just met him.”

“I didn’t ask when you met him,” Lottie pointed out, “I asked if you liked him. Just answer the question.”

Louis sighed in exasperation before deciding to take the honest route, “Yes. I like him.”

Lottie squealed with excitement, clasping her hands together, “Yes! This is great, Lou! How are you gonna ask him out?”

“I can’t,” Louis shrugged, “I gave him my number, but I didn’t get his. I have no way of contacting him, so the ball’s sort’ve in his court, I guess,” he explained.

Lottie frowned and closed her eyes in concentration before quickly reopening them and grinning maniacally. Apparently she had hatched some grand plan. _Oh dear_ , Louis thought, _this can’t be good_.

“I’ll ask Niall for Harry’s number!”

Louis struggled to keep his eyes on the road and not shoot his sister an incredulous look, “Niall? As in the Niall we just met?”

“Do we know any other Nialls?” Lottie rolled her eyes, seeming irritated at her brother’s inability to keep up with her line of thinking.

“When did you get his number?” Louis questioned, “ _Why_ did you get his number?”

“We exchanged numbers when you and Harry were off in your own little world of banter and sexual tension. Don’t worry, you probably wouldn’t have noticed a bomb detonating right in front of you, much less a number exchange,” Louis flipped Lottie off while she giggled, “As for why we swapped numbers, we felt it necessary to help our respective hopeless romantics find love, since they suck at doing it themselves.”

“Lottie! We just met!” Louis said for what felt like the hundredth time, “And I told you that I don’t want you meddling in my love life. Especially after what happened last time.”

Louis cringed as the memory came back to him. A few months ago, Lottie had set Louis up with one of her friend’s older brothers. The guy, Will, was attractive, Louis will admit it. However, his looks were the only attractive thing about him. He was a chronic mouth-breather who didn’t believe in showering and irritated Louis on a daily basis. It was as if he Googled ‘ways to annoy Louis Tomlinson’, memorized the list of results, and made his best effort to mark off every single one. He was also a taxidermist. It had been a month of horrendous dates before Louis finally broke it off (when Will invited him to help stuff a beaver).

“That happened ONE time! You can’t hold the beaver-stuffer against me forever,” Lottie argued.

Louis exhaled heavily, wanting so badly for this conversation to end, “Listen, I appreciate you trying to help me, I really do. I love you so much and you’re an amazing sister, but my social life isn’t something that I want you messing around with. I’m sure Harry would say the same to Niall. So let’s just drop it, okay?” Louis said with an air of finality.

“Okay,” Lottie slumped back in her seat with an unhappy expression set in her features, “I won’t ask Niall for Harry’s number. I’ll just cry about this missed opportunity for the rest of my life and—”

“Oh my God,” Louis rolled his eyes.

 

\------

 

By the time Louis arrived back at his flat in London, Lottie was fast asleep in the passenger seat. He took his keys out of the ignition and walked around to the other door, opening it quietly.

“Lottie,” He nudged his sister’s shoulder gently, “We’re back, love. Let’s get you inside and into a comfy bed, yeah?”

Lottie stirred, blinking her eyes rapidly to adjust to the light being emitted from the street lamps. Louis smiled softly at her and offered her his hand.

“Thanks Lou,” Lottie murmured gratefully, still half asleep while accepting his assistance out of the car.

Louis led her to the door, unlocking it and stepping aside so Lottie could walk in. He heard faint voices from the television in the living room and silently prayed that Liam wasn’t having another Duck Dynasty marathon in the middle of the night. Last time it happened, Louis had come down for an innocent midnight snack and instead caught his flatmate donning a fake beard and a camo onesie. Needless to say, it had been traumatizing.

He immediately guided his sister up the stairs and into his room, tucking her into his bed and gently kissing her forehead.

“Goodnight, Lots,” he whispered softly.

He didn’t wait for a response, she was asleep the second she hit the pillow.

Louis turned off the lights and quietly shut the door, heading back downstairs to see which of his flatmates would have the honor of being graced with his presence. He turned the corner to the living room and found Liam, luckily _not_ wearing a full duck costume.

He was laying across the couch, under the fleece blanket Zayn had bought him for Christmas last year, watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. _Definitely an upgrade from Duck Dynasty_ , Louis thought.

“Louis! You’re back!” Liam smiled, sitting up and patting the couch cushion beside him, offering Louis a seat, “I didn’t even hear you come in. How was the concert?”

Louis sat down and stole some of the blanket to cover his own lap with, crossing his legs in pretzel form. “It was—it was amazing,” he said honestly, grinning at the thought of green eyes and chocolate curls.

Liam’s eyes widened comically and he sat up straighter, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and pausing the film right as Sirius Black was escaping his imprisonment. He turned to Louis and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“What?” Louis laughed at his friend’s dramatic reaction.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. Tell me what happened! I haven’t seen you smile this dreamily since the opening of Perrie’s iconic birthday present.”

For his birthday last year, Zayn’s girlfriend, Perrie, had bought him a year supply of Yorkshire Tea, his absolute favorite. As soon as he opened the gift, everyone groaned because apparently “No other gift for Louis could ever top the iconic Yorkshire Tea present”. That was the day that she and Louis had really started to develop a close friendship, rather than a ‘forced to talk to each other because we are both close to Zayn’ friendship. Of course, that makes things a bit awkward since the pair broke up. Louis hates it. He almost feels guilty for hanging out with Perrie when Zayn’s in a right state _because_ of her.

“Hellooooo. Earth to Louis,” Liam pulled Louis out of his thoughts, waving his hand in front of Louis’ eyes.

“Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“You were just about to tell me what exactly has you grinning like a fool at 2 in the morning,” Liam stated, waggling his eyebrows.

Louis swallowed nervously. He didn’t know what to say. On one hand, he wanted to talk about Harry Styles for hours on end, from his long, curly hair to his endearing inability to walk three steps without stumbling. On the other hand, he didn’t want to pour his heart out to Liam if he was never going to see Harry again. He settled for a happy medium.

“I may have met a guy, it’s no big deal,” Louis shrugged, his voice carrying no emotion in an attempt to sound nonchalant.

If Liam’s reaction to that statement was any indication of how good Louis was at sounding ‘nonchalant’, his acting skills needed some serious work. Liam practically sprung off the couch, pulling the blanket off with him and leaving Louis both cold and fearful of what was to come. _Shit_ , he thought, bracing himself for his second round of interrogation for the night. Liam stood in front of Louis’ line of vision with his hands on his hips and a look of pure indignation on his face.

“Louis William Tomlinson. You will tell me everything about this guy that you ‘may have met’, because I am 99.9 percent positive, based on your creepy smile, that he _is_ a big deal!”

“Liam—” Louis was about to try and make his way out of the conversation when the melodic tinkling of keys began to drift in from the entry hall. _Saved by the Zayn!_

“Don’t you dare think you’re off the hook, Tommo!” Liam warned, as Louis dashed to the front door.

Zayn was shrugging his jacket off his shoulders, revealing a green knit [sweater](http://i.imgur.com/8gmUpuy.png?1) underneath. He hung his jacket on the coat rack and slipped out of his Doc Martens, right as Louis skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Zayn, mate! How’ve ya been? Was work alright? You’re getting home pretty late. You look tired, want me to tuck you in?” Louis sputtered out nonsense until Zayn finally interrupted him.

“What is going on?” His eyes were widened in shock, clearly not expecting such a lively greeting so late at night.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Liam had finally reached the entry hall, joining his two flatmates at the bottom of the stairs, “Lou met a guy at the Script concert and he’s trying to use your entrance as an escape from my interrogation!”

“You met a guy?!” Zayn raised his eyebrows, “Well come on then, out with it! We want to know all the gory details. In fact, I think this is a conversation to be had in the dining room!”

“Yes! I agree!” Liam shouted joyfully.

The boys have been living in this flat for two years, and during those two years, never once have they eaten in the [dining room](http://i.imgur.com/yVsJllC.png). Most meals are enjoyed in the living room, with everyone scattering their various food items across the coffee table, watching Big Brother or whatever corny game show they manage to find. If not the living room, they’ll eat in the kitchen or on the backyard patio, but _never_ the dining room. Rather, the dining room is reserved only for important conversations, like when Liam had wanted to paint the entry hall orange (an idea that was quickly shot down), or when Louis had seriously pushed for them to buy a kitten (only so that he could name it Flat-Cat), or when Zayn had told them about his and Perrie’s breakup. _And_ , apparently, when Zayn and Liam wanted to grill Louis about Harry Styles.

Louis sighed and trudged to the dining room. He knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He took his seat at the head while Zayn and Liam sat across from each other on opposite sides of the table. This was standard formation; whoever the conversation was centered around always sat at the head, while the other two always sat in the two closest chairs to that person. Any honorary council members (Perrie and Lottie were the only people to ever take up this mantle) filled in the remaining 3 seats. They took their discussions very seriously, each one like an all-important conference determining the fate of the universe. (They moved into their flat right around the time they binge-watched Game of Thrones together, so small council meetings may or may not have been the inspiration behind dining room discussions.)

“Okay,” Zayn clasped his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on the tabletop, “Spill.”

Louis launched into the story, from Grant being a creep, to his embarrassing behavior on the phone, to meeting Harry, and of course, the hug. Liam and Zayn were first and foremost worried about Lottie, but once Louis assured them that she was fine and sleeping peacefully upstairs, they turned their attention towards Harry.

“So, what’s he look like?”

“Does he have a good fashion sense?”

“Is he a Duck Dynasty fan?”

“How old is he?”

“What’s he do for a living? Or is he in school?”

“Tall, with green eyes and curly, brown hair that almost hits his shoulders, very attractive. From what I could gather, yes, he has a good sense of style. I’m not dignifying the Duck Dynasty question with a response,” Liam frowned, opening his mouth as if he were going to argue, but Louis plowed on, “I don’t know how old he is, probably a few years younger than me. And I have no idea if he’s working or not,” Louis spouted out his answers just as rapidly as he had been asked the questions, “Also, I’d like to point out that I _literally_ just met him. Like, barely 5 hours ago. You guys get that, right?”

“We’re just excited for you, Lou. You never act like this about guys anymore!” Liam explained.

“Act like what?” Louis asked, slightly fearful of the response he might receive.

“Like you want to see them again,” Zayn answered, “Ever since—you know, your breakup with ‘he who must not be named’—you never really gave anyone a chance. Which is completely understandable, and we would never push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but you’re _smiling_ , Lou. Like genuinely smiling and it’s because of this Harry guy. I think that maybe it’s time you opened your heart up, just a little. You know, take a chance.”

“Zayn,” Louis glared at his friend, “Seriously? ‘Open my heart up’? ‘Take a chance’? What is this, a romantic comedy?” he questioned.

Liam giggled, “Okay, he's right, that _was_ pretty cheesy.”

“Oh, shut it! Are you gonna call him or not?” Zayn asked, hope tinging the question.

Louis groaned and buried his face in his hands. He felt like he just had this conversation about an hour ago. _Oh wait_ , Louis thought, _I did just have this conversation an hour ago. Like exactly this conversation._

“Listen, I don’t have his number, but he has mine. So if he deems me worthy of a call or text, I would be more than willing to ask him on a date. Is that what you want to hear?” Louis turned to Zayn who nodded with a smile, then to Liam, who did the same, “Good. Council dismissed?” Louis asked.

“Council dismissed,” Liam and Zayn confirmed.

“We’re so happy for you, Lou,” Liam said sincerely.

“Don’t be happy for me yet, he may never call!” Louis attempted at humor, trying to hide the fact that he was actually very afraid of that very thing happening… or not happening.

“I’m sure he will,” Zayn squeezed Louis’ shoulder as he stood up.

“How can you be sure of anything? You’ve never even met him!” Louis looked at Zayn quizzically.

“I just have a feeling.”

 

\------

 

“Ughhhh,” Louis groaned, sunlight hitting him directly in the face where he was laying on the couch. His entire body was overheated and he cursed at himself silently for not closing the blinds before going to sleep. He had let Lottie have his room for the night (since he’s an excellent brother), and was therefore subjected to the confines of the living room and the anything-but-comfortable couch, which was definitely not a worthy substitute for his bed.

Louis looked around frantically for his phone, hoping to find both the time and a text from Harry. Finally finding it stuffed between two cushions, he unlocked it to find that it was 12:06 in the afternoon and there was no sign of a message from the curly haired boy. Louis tried to battle the sense of disappointment in his mind. _Maybe he isn’t awake yet. Or maybe he just forgot about you. Maybe he lost his phone. Or maybe he had no intention of ever reaching you._

Louis sighed, standing up and stretching his arms above his head before heading upstairs to his room. He gently knocked and waited a few seconds, stepping inside when there was no response.

Lottie was still fast asleep in her clothes from last night, drooling on Louis’ pillow. _How cute_.

“Lottie,” Louis gently shook her arm, “You gotta get up, babe. Your train’s leaving in an hour.”

Lottie grumbled and clamped her eyes shut tighter. She shook her head and snuggled farther into the bed.

“Come on, Lots. If you miss your train, mum’s gonna kill me," Louis pleaded, attempting to pry the blankets off of her. It was a harsh tactic, but he was not about to get told off by his mother.

“I don’t feel like moving. Just let me sleep in, Lou,” She mumbled.

“Fine, you don’t have to move, I’ll just go ask Liam to help me carry you to the car.”

Lottie sat up, eyes narrowed, “Are you trying to tell me that it would take two grown men to carry me to the car? That’s pathetic, Louis.”

“Oi! I’m scrappy and you know it! And I’m not saying it would take two of us, Liam could definitely carry you on his own. I’m saying I don’t think that _I_ could. Especially not this early in the morning.”

Lottie laughed and pushed the blankets off of her. Louis was glad that he didn’t actually have to wake Liam up, he would’ve done it had it come down to that.

Once they had all of Lottie’s stuff packed up, Louis pulled out of the garage and headed to the train station. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, the sun was shining (although, after his brutal wakeup, Louis wasn’t too fond of the sun) and the birds were chirping like a scene from a fairytale. The only thing that could make this day better would be—

“So, did Harry text you yet?” Lottie asked innocently.

“No,” Louis said, attempting to sound unfazed.

“He will. Don’t worry, Lou.”

Louis smiled at his sister’s confidence. He knew that Lottie had no way of knowing whether Harry would text, but he appreciated her assurance nevertheless.

Just then, a ping from his phone alerted a new text message. Louis glanced down to his phone, resting on the console between the two seats, and then back at Lottie, who was already grinning at him like a madwoman. Louis silently wondered if his life actually was a romantic comedy, with a message notification arriving just seconds after they had talked about Harry’s lack of one.

“Can I see who it is?” Lottie asked, showing a great amount of restraint. She looked like she was about to burst at the seam with excitement over a text from whom she wasn’t even aware of.

Louis exhaled nervously, “Go ahead.”

She unlocked his phone (Louis gave up on trying to have a Lottie-proof phone after the sixth time she figured out his passcode) and squealed in delight.

“It’s from Harry! He said ‘hi, this is harry’, how cute!” Lottie hugged the phone to her chest as if it were a newborn puppy, “What are you gonna say back to—”

The sound of another received text interrupted her.

“It’s him again! He said, ‘harry styles. just in case you were expecting a text from any other harrys’! Oh my God, Louis! He’s adorable!” Lottie said animatedly, “Okay, what are we gonna say? I’ll type it for you.”

“ _We_ aren’t gonna say anything. I’ll respond once I get you on your way to Doncaster,” Louis held out his hand expectantly, “I’ll take my phone now.”

Lottie peered out the windshield, seeming to just now realize that they had arrived at the train station. She frowned and turned toward Louis, handing him his phone.

“Come on, Lou. Just let me help you with this!”

Louis ignored her and turned off the car, walking to the other side to open Lottie’s door. She stepped out of the car and Louis chuckled, she was scowling as if he had deeply offended her.

“Oh, stop pouting,” he said with a grin.

Once Louis had gathered her bags (Lottie had packed two suitcases and a duffel for her two-day trip to London, claiming that her makeup filled up one bag completely), they entered the station. The bus to Doncaster was already boarding, meaning that Lottie would have to leave soon.

Louis let go of the suitcase handles and gently placed the duffel bag on the ground, smiling at Lottie and opening his arms. She hugged him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder as he pat her back lightly.

“I’ll see you at Christmas, yeah? Only a couple months,” Louis said, trying to make her departure a little less gloomy.

He loved his family, but living 3 hours away from them unfortunately didn’t allow for much face-to-face contact. He went home every year for Christmas and his birthday, which happened to fall on Christmas Eve. There were other events here and there that he would drive to Doncaster for throughout the year, but he didn’t see his family nearly enough. His mother, Lottie, and Fizzy, his second oldest sister, were easy to keep in contact with since they all had cell phones, but he barely heard from his four younger siblings. Sometimes, Daisy and Phoebe would steal another family member’s phone and FaceTime Louis, which was always a pleasure (even though it was sometimes depressing to see how much they’d grown since the last time he’d seen them). His mother recently married a nice man named Dan, with whom she had her second set of twins, Doris and Ernest. They were almost two years old now, and Louis could count the number of times he’s seen them in person on his hands.

Not being able to see his family as often as he’d like sucks, but Louis loves his life in London. He has the coolest job in the world and great, albeit incredibly nosy, friends, both of which he could never live without.

Louis has worked at the Google [headquarters](http://i.imgur.com/cC36QJI.png) in London for the past 4 years. He and Zayn met on their first day as interns, quickly becoming both best friends and business partners. They collaborated on design concepts and developed innovative new ideas for the company, catching the attention of several higher-ups in the business. Together, they quickly scaled the ladder to the top of the company, landing two spots on the coveted Google Doodle team, within a year of employment. Doodlers are in charge of designing and creating special edition logos for the Google homepage on holidays, important birthdays, and other events. Zayn and Louis have sort of become the big wigs at the London site, earning the respect of colleagues who look to them for artistic direction.

Two years into Louis and Zayn’s Google employment, the design department teamed up with the engineering department as a joint effort to update the company’s interface. This is when the pair met Liam Payne, head of Network Engineering. The three quickly became inseparable. Within a month, they had completely upended the Google interface as the world knew it, creating a more modern, user-friendly search browser, with the technical help of many computer programmers. They moved into their flat soon after the interface launch and now, they carpool to work whenever possible. Louis still can’t believe that he basically makes his living by drawing and working with his two best friends.

So yeah, his life is pretty great. The only thing lacking is someone for him to share it with. And yes, Louis is fully aware of how dumb and cheesy that sounds. Listen, he’s a strong man who can depend on himself, but he’d also like to not _have_ to depend on himself. The fact is that he’s always been a hopeless romantic at heart, not that he’ll ever admit it.

His last relationship ended badly, and saying that it didn’t affect him would be a lie. He had taken a week off work, choosing instead to curl up on the couch and wait for his flatmates to get back home and coddle him. Zayn and Liam treated Louis like a sick child, wrapping him up in blankets and cuddling him until he stopped crying. It took months for his normal behavior to return, but his heart had never really recovered. Since the breakup, he’s had a few hookups here and there, but he’s never dated anyone seriously (aside from Will the Beaver-Stuffer, but he doesn’t count). Now, he thinks he’s finally ready to get serious—if getting serious involves Harry Styles.

“Listen Lou,” Lottie said, disrupting Louis’ thoughts, “Please text Harry back. Don’t screw this up for yourself,” she pleaded.

Louis was confused, he was never once planning on ignoring Harry, “Of course I’ll text him back.”

“You will?” Lottie looked completely shocked, “This is fantastic! You haven’t given anyone a chance since Will!”

“Please don’t ever bring him up again,” Louis cringed, “And yes, I am very much planning on texting Harry, okay? So stop worrying about it and go home!” Louis laughed, gesturing to the train his sister was supposed to be getting on.

“Well geez! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me!” Lottie smirked. She hugged Louis one more time and then stepped back and looked into her brother’s eyes, suddenly sporting a very serious expression. “You deserve someone like Harry, Lou. I only talked to the guy for like an hour total, but I know that he’s good. And I know that you’d be good for each other,” she kissed Louis on the cheek and boarded the train before Louis could respond, struggling to carry all three of her bags.

He waited for the train to leave before heading back to his car, receiving a new text message as soon as he sat down.

_im expecting updates on you and harry xx_

Lottie was one of a kind.

 

\------

 

Louis was sitting on the couch back at the flat after getting back from the train station. He had been staring at Harry’s texts for an embarrassing amount of time.

_hi, this is harry_

_*harry styles. just in case you were expecting a text from any other harrys!_

He wasn’t really sure how to respond. He could always take the simple route with just a greeting, but he was tempted to say more.

**no other harrys for me! just you, styles.**

He hit send, but then quickly typed out another message.

**I assume that you managed to get back to london safely, considering your highly advanced driving skills?**

It had been approximately an hour since Harry had texted him, and Louis hoped that he hadn’t waited too long to respond, not wanting to look rude. He turned on the telly and stretched out across the sofa, shuffling through the channels until finally settling on Keeping Up With the Kardashians. The show is addicting, okay? He heard the ping of a new text message as he was placing the remote on the coffee table.

_of course I did! niall even fell asleep during the ride, thanks to my smooth navigating abilities!_

Louis giggled, recalling the fact that Lottie had also fallen asleep on the trip home. Clearly, superior driving abilities weren’t required to get someone to fall asleep on the road, but he wasn’t about to burst Harry’s bubble. Or maybe he was.

**not to burst your bubble, but lottie also fell asleep on the way home. which means that your unparalleled driving talent is actually very paralleled!**

_hahah only by you! we can share the title of best driver in london if you want xx_

The playful text message banter continued for a while before Harry told Louis that he had to work and would text him later “if that was okay”. As if another texting session with Harry would be anything _but_ okay.

Louis closed his eyes, shifting into a more comfortable position. He had taken the day off of work, and with both Zayn and Liam still at Headquarters, he had plenty of time for a good nap.

As soon as he started drifting into a peaceful slumber, the harsh ring of his cell phone woke him up. Louis groaned, grabbing his phone as his boss’s contact photo flashed across the screen. _That’s strange_ , Louis thought. His boss rarely called him when Louis wasn’t working, using phone calls strictly for business subjects and texts for any non-Google related matters.

“Hello?” Louis mumbled.

“Tommo!” James’ sharp voice carried across the line, “Listen, I know you’re not working today, but I need your help. Could you please do me a favor? I’ll owe you one!”

Louis sighed, he really didn’t feel like moving, “What’s the issue, James?”

“Google X has been developing a new software, do you recall?”

Louis racked his memory, trying to come up with the details of the new software. Google X is a facility within Google that deals with technological advancements (like driverless cars and computer glasses). Louis faintly remembered Liam mentioning something about a program designed to be a panacea for all viruses.

“Yeah, I remember. The anti-virus program?” he asked.

“Yes! That’s the one. The launch party for the software is next week.”

“Okay?” Louis said, waiting to see what his task would be. _Maybe I’ll need to do some last minute artwork for marketing?_ He guessed.

“Well, the consultation for the party’s floral arrangements is scheduled for today at 3 PM, but no one can make it. You see, I sort’ve forgot that I made the appointment,” James finished.

Louis shook his head in confusion. “Let me get this straight,” he said incredulously, “You’re asking me to drive to a flower shop, on my day off, and make bouquet arrangements for a party that’s not even being hosted by my department?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m asking,” James confirmed.

“I don’t know anything about flowers!” Louis protested, “Can’t you reschedule? Or send an intern? Or—I don’t know, maybe find a Google X employee to run their own errands?” Louis knew he should stop while he’s ahead. He and James have an atypical boss-employee relationship (often cracking jokes that may be deemed inappropriate in a work environment and going on weekly bar runs), but he shouldn’t push his luck.

“I can’t reschedule! The consultation is at Elizabeth Marsh, one of the most in-demand flower shops in the country, let alone London. It was hard enough managing to land this appointment, there’s no way there will be any more openings before the launch,” James explained, “You know if I could send anyone else, I would, but there’s not enough time! The appointment’s at 3.” Louis glanced at the wall clock before tilting his head back with his eyes shut tight in annoyance. It was 2:47. “Your flat’s a ten minute drive from the shop. You could make it in time, no one at Headquarters would be able to. Please, Louis! I would really appreciate it.” Louis exhaled loudly, already missing his carefree, lazy day.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it,” Louis caved.

“Yes! Thank you! I swear I won’t forget this, Louis!” James sounded incredibly relieved.

“I still know nothing about flowers, so don’t blame me if the entire launch is a failure due to heinous floral arrangements,” Louis mumbled.

“Don’t worry, it’s a consultation,” James supplied, as if the statement would suddenly transform Louis into a botanist, “They have specialists who will pretty much take care of everything for you. Just smile and nod at whatever they say, you’ll be fine.”

Louis silently wondered why it was even necessary to go to the appointment if all he had to do was smile and nod.

James thanked him several more times before finally hanging up. Louis got up from the couch regretfully, promising to spend more quality time with it after he got over this dumb consultation. He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, since he hadn’t bothered to change when he took Lottie to the station.

He ran upstairs and stripped off his t-shirt, exchanging it for a blue and white Adidas [jumper](http://i.imgur.com/cfZHNJq.png?1). He kept on his black skinny jeans and slipped into some gray Adidas trainers. If one statement in this world could go undisputed, it was that Louis Tomlinson was an Adidas fan. Finding something in his closet without three stripes or the trefoil logo would be harder than finding a microscopic needle in the world’s biggest haystack.

He stepped in front of his mirror and cringed. _Yikes_. His hair was a mess and he was in dire need of a shower. He had dark purple bags under his eyes, most likely the result of last night’s low quality sleeping conditions. He finger-combed through his fringe, trying (and failing miserably) to make himself look just a little more presentable.

“Well, that’ll have to be good enough,” he said to his reflection, heading out of his room and sprinting to his car.

The clock on the center console read 2:52, meaning Louis was going to have to speed. To a flower shop. _This day is definitely not going as expected_ , he thought, backing out of the garage.


	3. Chapter 3

He finally made it to “Elizabeth Marsh Floral Design” (which is way too long for a business name, if you ask Louis) at 3:01 with only a few GPS mishaps. He got out of the car as quickly as possible and jogged to the door.

The waiting [area](http://i.imgur.com/nGGm9gC.png) had a stylish modern look, complete with a large fireplace, a chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling, and other tasteful decorations. Louis will admit that up until this moment, he’s never been inside of a flower shop, but this is certainly not what he was expecting. He had prepared himself for an indoor garden, with floral displays occupying every inch of available space. He was surprised to find only a single vase of orange blossoms placed on the coffee table. For some reason, a reception desk and armchairs were nowhere to be found in Louis’ imaginary flower shop. It seemed more like a waiting room for a spa.

“Hi, welcome to EMFD!” The young woman behind the reception desk stood from her chair, smiling at Louis. He silently laughed at the acronym. Clearly, this lady also thought that “Elizabeth Marsh Floral Design” was a bit of a mouthful. “Are you here for the Google X consultation appointment at 3 PM?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Louis smiled back, “Because apparently I’m a Google X employee now,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Great! Your consultant should be ready, if you’ll just follow me.”

Louis followed the woman down a hallway, her dark ponytail wagging back and forth, before stopping in front of an open door.

“Here you are,” she said, gesturing to the room, “Your consultant is one of our best, I’m sure you’ll have a great appointment,” she turned around and headed back to the waiting room, leaving Louis stranded in the hallway.

He glanced around the hall confusedly, not sure what he was supposed to do. Was he allowed to just enter the room? There might be some sort of flower shop consultation room etiquette that he was unaware of. The door was open, which would make knocking somewhat unnecessary. Through the open door, all he could see was floral wallpaper and a cushioned purple chair.

 _Screw it_ , he thought, deciding to just walk in unannounced. He had places to be (his couch) and needed to get this appointment over with.

Honestly, he hadn’t given much thought as to who would be in the office when he entered. Maybe a crotchety old woman who wasn’t afraid to share her opinions. Maybe a younger girl with a lifelong passion for flowers.

He was _definitely_ not expecting Harry Styles.

Louis was now certain that his life was a romantic comedy.

Harry was sitting behind a fashionable wooden desk in a maroon knit sweater, typing something on his MacBook. Like the waiting room, this [office](http://i.imgur.com/4ak622Y.png) was also stylishly decorated. _Unlike_ the waiting room, there were actually flowers. From the wallpaper, to the bouquet on the desk, to the bulletin board hanging above Harry’s head (which had actual blossoms pinned to it), the room was bursting with life. The plum and olive green color scheme combined with the wooden furniture gave the area a rustic feel. Louis silently thought that _this_ was what a flower shop was supposed to look like.

Realizing that he was no longer alone, Harry stopped typing and looked up at Louis. His brow furrowed in confusion before morphing into something that looked a lot like happiness. He stood from his chair, beaming at Louis.

“Louis?! What are you doing here?” he said with a smile, walking over to him and—oh, he was going in for a hug. Okay, Louis was good with that. Louis was definitely, definitely, good with that.

Harry wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist and squeezed once tightly before stepping back and looking into his eyes, awaiting a response. Having only met last night, it should probably be weird that they had just casually hugged as if they’d known each other for years, but it didn’t feel weird. It felt amazing. (Not as amazing as the 8-second carpark embrace, but amazing nevertheless.)

“I swear I’m here for a consultation and I had no idea that you worked here,” Louis said quickly, “I’m not actually a stalker.”

Harry laughed and Louis lost his breath. He wondered how it was possible for someone to look beautiful at all times. He figured it was like a default setting for Harry Styles; he would have to seriously _try_ to look anything less than gorgeous. Louis was suddenly very aware of his current state of unsightliness, and found himself desperately wishing he’d taken a shower earlier.

“So, you work for Google X?” Harry asked, and now it was Louis’ turn to laugh, because apparently he _does_ work for Google X.

“Actually, no,” Harry tilted his head to the side confusedly, “I work for Google, just—not for that department. I’m a Doodler,” Louis cringed, wondering why his job title had to be one of the most juvenile words in the dictionary, “Long story short, I was supposed to be off work today, but then my boss called me and said that he needed someone to come to this consultation, because apparently he doesn’t know how to use the calendar on his iPhone and forgot that he had scheduled it, and by the time he remembered, no one would be able to make it—”

“Except for you,” Harry finished for him.

“Except for me,” Louis confirmed.

Harry nodded in understanding and then smiled, “A Doodler?”

Louis sighed, he really needed to talk to James about changing that title to something a little less lame. “You know how on holidays or other important dates the Google logo is themed?”

“You do that?” Harry’s eyes were widened in disbelief, like an impressed schoolboy.

“Well, not alone. I work with a team. But yeah, I do that,” Louis finished before turning the attention back to Harry, “And you’re a consultant at one of the most popular flower shops in the country. You must be good at what you do.”

Harry blushed at the praise, “I think I just have a knack for figuring out a person’s taste. Like if they’re a rose person or a tulip person. Or if they prefer classic pieces rather than the more modern ones.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Louis blew out a puff of air through his lips, “Because I know next to nothing about flowers.” They both laughed wildly as Harry made his way back over to his chair, gesturing for Louis to take a seat across from him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Harry smiled, clicking away on his computer, “I was just looking at the setup of the room for the party. It looks like it’s gonna have twenty general tables and then a head table for whoever is being honored.”

Louis nodded with his lips pouted out, pretending to understand what that meant in terms of flowers.

Harry giggled at his expression and turned his laptop so that the screen was facing Louis. He pointed to the picture on the screen; it was a floor plan depicting twenty small circular tables and a long rectangular one at the front of the room, which Louis assumed was the head table. “Normally, for the smaller tables, we just do one piece in the center of each. Then, for the longer ones we do three bigger pieces that complement the others,” Harry explained, “Does that sound good to you?”

“Umm… Yeah? I guess so,” Louis laughed nervously, “To be honest, I’m good with whatever you think is best. I trust your expertise.”

Harry grinned at him and a feeling of warmness settled over Louis. Harry’s smile could cure diseases, he was sure of it.

“Great! Then we just have to pick out what flowers you want for the arrangements," he turned to his right, rifling through a rack of binders. He pulled out a thick black one and placed it on the desk in front of Louis, opening it to the first page. The binder was a giant photo album of flower displays, ranging from simple and chic to lavish and extravagant. “These are some examples of pieces I’ve done in the past. Do you have any flower preference?”

Louis shrugged, “I wasn’t joking when I said I know nothing about flowers. Do you have a favorite? I’m sure whatever you like would be fine.”

Harry frowned, and a puppy died. Or what’s that expression? Louis couldn’t remember, but he knew that anytime Harry is unhappy, something horrible happens in the world.

“I like English roses, they’re my favorite. Unfortunately, we’re not allowed to offer them here anymore,” at Louis’ confused expression, he continued, “My boss, Elizabeth, had a bad divorce a few months back. Her ex-husband used to always buy English roses for her. I think she sort’ve associates them with bad memories now, which is understandable. I mean, it kinda sucks that out of all of the rose species in the world, she chose to ban my favorite, but I’m used to things like that happening,” Harry chuckled resignedly.

“Used to things like what happening?” Louis asked.

The question might’ve been a little too personal, Louis realized after it had already slipped out of his mouth. Harry sighed and looked to the floor.

“Just like—I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My luck hasn’t been the greatest lately. Like, last Wednesday, I was driving past the market and saw this elderly woman in the carpark with a ton of grocery bags, and it looked like she was struggling to carry them all, right? So I parked in the lot and helped her load her stuff, but when I went back to my car, I had been fined! Apparently, my car had been in a restricted area.”

Louis felt angered on Harry’s behalf. He wanted to have a conversation with whomever thought it was necessary to fine Harry when he was busy helping a little old lady with her groceries. Before he could say as much, Harry spoke again.

“And like, the other day, my telly broke _right_ before the new episode of Scandal.”

Louis laughed wildly at the stark difference between Harry’s first and second examples, but stopped when he saw Harry pouting.

“The last episode ended on a cliffhanger! I had been waiting on the edge of my seat for a whole week, and when I was finally gonna be put out of my misery, the telly decides that it’s tired of working!” Louis laughed again, this time with Harry joining him.

“Well, I’m truly sorry about the parking ticket and Scandal,” Louis said genuinely, “You deserve only the best of luck.”

Harry looked at him gratefully, before shifting his eyes back to the ground. His mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was debating whether or not to say something.

“It—It’s not just that. My boyfriend,” Louis tried his very best to maintain a neutral expression and not frown in disappointment before Harry continued, “Well, my ex-boyfriend now—I found out that he was cheating on me—that he had been cheating on me for practically the entire time we were together,” he looked back up at Louis, trying to gauge his reaction.

Louis didn’t know what to say; he was honestly dumbfounded. Why would anyone cheat on Harry Styles? The concept made no sense to him whatsoever. If you have the greatest person in the world (in Louis’ opinion) as your boyfriend, why would you ever do anything to jeopardize your relationship? And more importantly, how could you possibly hurt him? Causing Harry any kind of pain should be a crime of the highest offense. The thought of Harry crying or being upset over his cheating ex-boyfriend made Louis sick to his stomach. Whoever he was, Louis hated him.

Louis must have been silent for too long, because before he could speak again Harry had already started rambling an apology.

“I’m sorry—I said too much. Here you are trying to organize things for work, and I dish out my personal problems like a loon. You probably think I’m weird now. I-I didn’t mean to overshare, I’m sorry. Just—can you pretend that I didn’t say that last thing and—”

“Hey,” Louis took Harry’s hand from where it was sitting on the desk and squeezed it, “Breathe, Harry,” Harry stopped talking and inhaled deeply, heeding Louis’ order, “You didn’t say too much and I don’t think you’re weird, okay? I’m just trying to figure out how someone could cheat on you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, eyes shining like he was on the brink of tears.

“Just, he’d have to have been an idiot to cheat on you,” Louis looked down to where he was rubbing his thumb soothingly along the top of Harry’s hand, “And I don’t take you for someone who dates idiots,” he finished.

When he looked up, Harry’s mouth was a quivering line and his eyes were threatening to spill tears at any moment. He sniffled, causing some of the tears to spill over, meaning that Louis had officially made Harry cry. He felt awful.

“Hey,” he detached his hand from Harry’s and moved it to cup his right cheek instead, seeming to forget that he’s only known this person for a day. Luckily, Harry also seemed to forget, immediately leaning into the touch. “Please don’t cry. It’s heartbreaking—And I’m gonna need my heart to stay in one piece if we actually want to get these flowers picked out,” Harry released a watery giggle and Louis smiled at him. He gently wiped away Harry’s tears and dropped his hand back to his side.

“Right, the flowers,” Harry said, shifting back in his seat. He brought his hands together and cracked his knuckles, apparently getting back into ‘flower shop consultant’ mode. “So, based on Google X’s color scheme, I was thinking a mixture of dahlias, lilies, and baby’s-breath might be a good choice for centerpieces,” he finished, voice still a bit wobbly.

“Baby’s breath?” Louis tilted his head to the side, wondering if he had heard that right.

Harry laughed at Louis’ confused expression, “Don’t worry, it’s a type of flower. No babies will be harmed in the making of your displays.”

Louis giggled before responding, “Okay well, I’m fine with whatever you think is best, so let’s do that.”

“Great! You’ll just have to sign a few papers on behalf of Google X and then I’ll let you go. Maybe you can still salvage some of your day off,” Harry said, filling in information on a sheet of blue paper.

Louis suddenly felt unsettled, the same way he felt last night when he had to say goodbye to Harry. He didn’t want to stop talking to him. Like ever. But especially not right now. He wanted to listen to Harry talk about English roses and Scandal and the breath of babies, or whatever that flower was called, for hours and hours. He wanted to hug Harry again and feel his face pressed into Louis’ neck, the way it was in the carpark last night. He wanted to get to know him.

He definitely didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Okay, here you go,” Harry placed two sheets of paper in front of Louis and handed him a pen, pulling him out of his thoughts, “You just have to sign the line at the bottom of each of these.”

Louis nodded and followed Harry’s instructions.

“Alright,” Harry stood up and gathered the papers, placing them in an organisation shelf to his right, “Well—”

“Are you busy tonight?” Louis interrupted.

Harry’s eyes widened comically, “What?”

“Tonight. Are you doing anything? Because I’m not. And I want to hang out with you, you know—if you want to—”

“Yes!” Harry smiled, “I-I mean, no! I’m not busy. And yes, I would love to hang out with you,” Harry said quickly, “My last appointment’s at 5, so I should be done around 6. We could do something then? Or if that’s too late I could see when—”

“Harry,” Louis smiled at him exasperatedly, “Last time I checked, I’m not 80 years old. 6 o’clock is fine.” Harry exhaled in relief. “Would you want to come to my flat? We could watch a movie or something. Though, I can’t promise that my flatmates won’t interrupt,” Louis finished.

“That sounds great!”

“Okay, then,” Louis grinned, “It’s settled. 6 PM, my place. I’ll text you the address.”

Louis leaned over the desk and gently kissed Harry on the cheek.

“See you tonight,” he said, leaving Harry in a state of wide-eyed shock as he exited the room.

 

++++++

 

“How ‘bout this one?” Niall held up a lavender jumper, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, is it too casual?”

“Harry," Niall looked at him with exasperation, “You’re going to his _flat_. Not a five star restaurant.”

They had been in Harry’s closet for the past ten minutes trying desperately to find an outfit worthy of a date with Louis Tomlinson. Or a “hangout” with Louis Tomlinson. Harry wasn’t really sure if this was a date, but he wanted it to be.

After Louis had left the flower shop, Harry’s brain was in a constant loop of ‘ _Did that really just happen?’_ for at least an hour. He stayed glued to the spot he was in when Louis asked him to come over. It was also the spot he was in when Louis kissed him on the cheek, which, wow. Just, wow. This day was definitely not going as expected.

Harry wondered how he managed to score a date (hopefully) with Louis, after crying in front of him and making a complete fool of himself, but hey, he wasn’t about to question it.

“I need to look at least _slightly_ attractive,” Harry countered.

“Well, well, well!” Niall smirked, placing his hands on his hips, “Am I gonna have to tell Anne that her baby son is on his way to seduce a mere stranger?”

“Niall!” Harry glared at him, “I’m not ‘seducing’ _anyone_. And we’re not strangers. In fact, this is technically our third date.”

Niall furrowed his brow in confusion, apparently trying to figure out when Harry’s first and second dates with Louis were. “Don’t tell me you’re counting the concert as your first date.” Harry nodded with a smile. “You didn’t even know each other!” Niall laughed.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m still counting it. Just help me get dressed.”

Niall cackled and continued his search. He combed through Harry’s closet, eyes lighting up upon finding a black collared [shirt](http://i.imgur.com/iKHqlVw.png) with a pink feather pattern on it.

“This is it. This is the one,” Niall tossed it to Harry.

Harry looked down at the shirt and back at Niall confusedly, “Are you sure? This one’s kind of eye-catching—”

“I’m sure,” Niall interrupted, nodding, "It’s the one. Besides, didn’t you want to catch Louis’ eye?”

Harry laughed and, reluctantly, put on the shirt, taking his time to carefully fasten each button. When he was finished, he turned to Niall with raised eyebrows, awaiting his approval.

Niall shook his head and stepped up to Harry, undoing the first two buttons and exposing a bit of his chest.

“You won’t be seducing _anybody_ with your shirt buttoned up to your chin,” Niall reasoned. He stepped back and gave Harry a once-over. “You look fantastic.”

 

\------

 

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was in the driveway of Louis’ flat, grasping his steering wheel with sweaty palms. The [flat](http://i.imgur.com/x3fFMrJ.png) was gorgeous, a townhome style building with brick accents. Harry wanted to appreciate the cozy aesthetic of the place, but he was too busy freaking out.

“Okay, I can do this. I just have to get out of the car and knock on the door,” he said to himself.

He exhaled and reached for his door handle, before quickly retracting his hand and placing it back on the steering wheel. _What if he doesn’t like my outfit?_ Harry rested his head on the wheel and closed his eyes in concentration. _Maybe I should go home and cha—_

A sequence of knocks pulled Harry out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and glanced to his right, finding Louis smiling through the glass and gesturing for Harry to roll down the window. He was still wearing the outfit from earlier today, and, of course, he looked absolutely gorgeous. _Well, this is just great,_ Harry thought, following Louis’ instructions. As soon as the separation was gone, Louis spoke.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern clear in his features.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m alright. I’m fine, really!” Harry attempted to sound calm. Louis eyed him suspiciously, and yeah, Harry wasn’t the best at sounding calm when he was actually panicking.

“Are you sure?” Louis quirked an eyebrow, “You’ve been parked in my driveway for almost ten minutes.”

Harry closed his eyes in embarrassment. Had it really been _that_ long? Apparently, he needed to work on his concept of time. Also, his seduction tactics, since getting caught lurking in your crush’s driveway for ten minutes was evidently not a good approach.

He sighed and looked back at Louis with a small smile, “I’m just a little nervous,” he said honestly, replacing Louis’ look of concern with one of understanding.

“Hey,” Louis cupped Harry’s cheek, like he had earlier at the flower shop, and smiled at him, “You have nothing to be worried about, okay? We’re gonna go inside and watch a quality romantic comedy—or an action film? Whatever you want,” he smiled, “Why don’t you just roll up your window and turn off the car?”

All of Harry’s reservations had faded the second Louis’ hand touched his cheek. He was no longer worried about his outfit, or this “date”, or anything, really. He just wanted to spend more time with him. Especially if it involved rom coms and couch cuddling. _Is it too soon for couch cuddling?_ Harry honestly wasn’t sure what counted as “too soon” when it came to Louis. Considering they just met last night and Harry had already thought about which flowers would be best for their wedding (He was bored, okay?), he figured it doesn’t really matter.

He did as he was told, rolling up the window and turning off his car. As soon as he pulled his key out of the ignition, Louis opened Harry’s door and offered his hand to him.

Somehow, even with Louis’ assistance, Harry managed to trip on his way out of the car. Luckily, Louis was there both to witness Harry’s unparalleled clumsiness and to protect him from the repercussions of said clumsiness. He caught Harry around his waist and steadied him before his head could slam into the pavement.

“Oops.”

“Hi,” Louis smiled, gently squeezing his sides, “Let’s get you inside, yeah? We might have a chance to get you to the couch before your next scheduled stumble.”

Louis took Harry’s hand and led him to the door, opening it and stepping aside. “After you,” he gestured to the open door.

Harry stepped into a nicely decorated entry hall. There was a beautiful wooden staircase placed directly ahead of the front door, leading to an upper level. The walls were painted white, creating a bright atmosphere, and were decorated with a vast collection of picture frames. Intrigued by the display, Harry slowly walked down the hall, gazing at the photos that littered the walls as Louis closed the door.

There were several pictures of Louis and Lottie from a whole bunch of different years (Apparently, Lottie’s hair hadn’t always been pure white). He paused on [one](http://i.imgur.com/L0iDTzT.png?2) of the siblings at some sort of party (Harry assumed), and a surge of fondness ran through him at how close the pair seemed to be. Most of the photos, however, depicted Louis with two other men, who Harry assumed were his flatmates, in various locations. Like next to a volcano, or on a yacht, or with Christ the Redeemer. Harry stopped in front of [one](http://i.imgur.com/QsWY2gT.png?1) that pictured the three friends; Louis and the one with darker hair were wearing what Harry suspected were ninja costumes, while the one in the middle was wearing a shiny wrestling uniform that said “PAYNE TRAIN” across the chest. Harry was beginning to wonder what exactly these people do in their free time when he was pulled out of his thoughts by Louis’ voice.

“Google is sort of an— _unconventional_ company. That picture is from last year’s holiday party. Liam had to participate in a wrestling match, hence the ridiculous costume,” Louis chuckled, “Zayn and I had to fight as ninjas to protect Headquarters from ‘evil’, which was just a group of IT employees dressed as monsters. Needless to say, we came out victorious.”

Harry laughed at the story, imagining Louis wielding a sword and chucking plastic throwing stars at a group of coworkers.

“Do you travel a lot?” Harry asked, thinking back to all the scenic pictures on the wall, “Like, with your flatmates?”

Louis nodded, “Google sends us on three all-expense paid work trips a year. The first is to the original Google headquarters in California, called the Googleplex, where there’s a huge annual expo. The second is to the São Paulo headquarters in Brazil, for a Doodlers conference. Liam technically isn’t supposed to go on that one, since he works for engineering, but Zayn and I usually find a way to bring him along.” Harry wondered what kind of scheming would have to go down in order to get _that_ approved. He’d have to ask later. “And the third is a team member bonding retreat at a surprise location. Last year, it was in Hawaii,” he said, gesturing to the volcano picture.

“That’s amazing.”

Harry was honestly considering quitting his job at EMFD and applying to be a florist for Google. He’s never heard of such spectacular employee perks.

“Yeah,” Louis shrugged, “I have no idea how I managed to get so lucky, but I’m never taking it for granted,” he said a bit seriously, before he looked back at Harry and smiled, “Now, come on, it’s time for a movie!”

He pulled Harry into a room on the left and guided him to the couch, gesturing for him to sit.

While Louis rifled through a rack of DVDs near the television, Harry glanced around the area. His eyes settled on a grand piano in the corner of the room.

“Do you play?”

Louis turned from where he was crouched with the DVDs and followed Harry’s line of vision to the piano.

“Yeah, a little. Mostly just to entertain people at parties. I’m not very good,” he answered.

Harry didn’t believe _that_ for a second. He was thinking about begging Louis to play, but decided that piano-playing was for another time. Today was strictly for movie-watching, and Harry was ready.

“Would you prefer The Proposal or Just Go With It?” Louis held up the DVD cases with raised eyebrows, “Or—I mean if you had something else in mind, that’s fine. We could rent something or—”

“The Proposal,” Harry interrupted, “Both are great movies, but Niall and I watched Just Go With It when my sister visited last week. I haven’t seen The Proposal in forever!”

Louis smiled and set up the movie before joining Harry on the couch. There was a comfortable amount of space between them, too much for Harry to feel Louis’ warmth, which was not acceptable at all.

As the opening credits played, Harry felt a surge of boldness rush through him, and scooted his bum to the right, closer to Louis. When he got close enough for their thighs to press together, he looked up to Louis with a questioning expression.

“Is this okay?” he asked, because maybe being pressed up against someone you just met yesterday is only alright for Harry.

Louis’ expression told him otherwise. He smiled and wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

“Trust me, it’s okay.”

++++++

Halfway through the movie, Harry had fallen asleep on Louis’ shoulder and Louis was trying his best to keep his eyes on the screen and not on the boy beside him. It was a losing battle.

After Harry had scooted closer to him (which, can Louis’ day be any better?), Louis had started to gently comb through his chocolatey curls with his fingers. Harry had practically purred at the contact, snuggling further into Louis’ side and wordlessly encouraging him to continue. And that’s the moment when Louis realized that he was couch-cuddling with someone he’d known for less than 24 hours. _Right_. He should probably be panicking, but he wasn’t. Like at all.

After his last breakup, Louis had held a dinner table council in which he formally swore off all future relationships, claiming that he would remain single for the rest of his life. Now, sitting here with Harry, Louis understood why Zayn and Liam had immediately labeled the statement “dramatic”. He was definitely willing to lift the ban on relationships, or he was willing to make an exception, for Harry Styles.

However, he might have to be patient on the “relationship with Harry” front. Louis suspected that the wound left by Harry’s cheating ex-boyfriend (an absolute arsehole in Louis’ opinion) was still fresh. He would never rush Harry; he’d wait for him, however long it takes. In fact, he would be perfectly happy if all he and Harry did for the rest of their lives was sit on this couch together, Harry sleeping quietly on Louis’ shoulder while Louis gazed down at him, hopelessly endeared.

Harry’s pink lips were pouted against Louis’ bicep, his face peaceful, when Louis’ phone buzzed on the coffee table. Louis ignored it, finding Harry’s angelic features more important than whoever was trying to contact him. The phone buzzed again and he sighed exasperatedly. He flickered his eyes over Harry’s face to make sure the vibrations hadn’t woken him up, before reaching for his phone. He had two text messages from Lottie.

_you and harry are on a date and you didn’t even tell me? I’m offended!_

_I’m expecting a full report when it’s over!_

Confused, Louis quickly texted back.

**how did you even know that we were on a date?**

**and it’s not a date !!**

**well, maybe it is. I’d have to ask harry.**

_oh give me a break, it’s absolutely a date! and niall texted me. I told him to be my eyes and ears for all larry drama since I can’t be in london._

**larry???**

_yes. louis and harry. it’s a portmanteau. like brangelina._

**I know what it is. I wasn’t aware that harry and I had one.**

_of course you do. you can thank the fantastic captain of your ship for it. now, get back to your date and text me all the details when it’s over. love you, lou! xx_

_btw, it’s me. I’m the fantastic captain of your ship._

Louis was very confused by all the nautical talk, but he’s very confused by Lottie in general, so he wasn’t going to ask. Nope, he was just going to sit back and hold Harry a little longer, enjoying the silen—

The sound of keys at the front door interrupted Louis’ thoughts. He started to panic, his heartrate steadily rising. _Am I being robbed?!_ Louis was halfway through the development of an escape plan for him and Harry when he remembered that he had flatmates. Then he was nervous for a whole different reason.

 _Shit_. He hadn’t thought of this when he’d invited Harry over. Honestly, the fact that Zayn and Liam existed never crossed his mind, he was so caught up with the thought of spending time with Harry.

Louis considered his options. He could do nothing, and wait for his flatmates to walk into the living room, instantly spotting Louis and a sleeping Harry. He could wake Harry up and they could escape through the back door before Zayn and Liam could spot them. He could pretend to be sleeping too and hope that his friends ignore them (this option he’s fairly certain would fail).

He decided to wake Harry up and warn him about the introductions that would inevitably be happening in about thirty seconds. He brushed a stray curl out of Harry’s face and tucked it behind his ear.

“Harry,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. He knew he would probably have to be a lot louder to wake him up, but he felt horrible disturbing Harry’s peaceful slumber.

“Harry,” he shook his left shoulder gently, “Wake up.”

Harry’s nose crinkled and his eyes squeezed shut tighter, before blinking a few times. He looked up at Louis like a confused kitten and Louis was about ready to die from the sheer cuteness of the boy beside him, but then Harry’s eyes widened and he frantically glanced around the room, seeming to realize that he had fallen asleep. He sat up straighter and looked at Louis apologetically.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep, it’s just, like, I was really tired from work and I was super comfortable. Oh, God, you probably think I’m an absolute weirdo, I promise I usually don’t fall asleep on dates! Or, hangouts! Or whatever this is! I’m—”

“Harry,” Louis brushed another piece of Harry’s hair out of his face before bringing his hand to his cheek, “Breathe,” Louis smiled softly as Harry exhaled a sigh of relief, “I don’t think you’re weird, alright? You don’t have to worry about that, like, ever.” Louis thought back to the carpark, when Harry was nervous about Louis rejecting him, and earlier at the flower shop when Harry was worried that he had overshared after talking about his ex. The truth was, unless Harry asked him to stuff beavers, there wasn’t much that could turn Louis away.

Harry’s head tilted to the side, “Don’t have to worry about what?” he asked.

“About me thinking you’re weird. I don’t. You were tired, so you fell asleep. That’s normal and perfectly alright,” Louis stated simply, “Plus, even if you were weird, it wouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

Louis pursed his lips together, silent for a few seconds, contemplating what to say. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, “I guess there’s just something about you, Harry Styles. You’re not scaring me away.”

And that’s the absolute truth. He had no idea why he was so enamored by Harry, but it was undeniable that he was. From the second he saw Harry sitting next to Lottie with his long legs twisted pretzel style by the toilets, Louis had been captivated.

Harry smiled at him gratefully, before his eyes flickered down to Louis’ lips. There was only a small amount of distance between their faces, and Louis really, really wanted to close it. He started to lean in—

“Oh! Oh my God, sorry!” Louis and Harry jumped from their position on the couch in surprise at the voice. Louis looked to the doorway of the living room, where Liam stood, shielding his eyes with his hand. _Oh yeah_ , Louis thought. _There was a reason I needed to wake Harry up._ “I didn’t know you had company, and I heard The Proposal playing, so I was gonna come join you—but I’m leaving now,” Liam started backing up towards the door, his eyes still covered, “I didn’t see anything, I promise!”

“Liam,” Louis sighed, “It’s fine, we weren’t doing anything anyways.” Liam peaked through the fingers that were covering his eyes and then lowered his hand cautiously, eyeing Louis and Harry with suspicion.  That’s when Zayn, undoubtedly having heard the commotion, walked into the living room and stood beside Liam, eyes widening when he spotted Louis and Harry. _Great. This is gonna be fun._

Louis stood from the couch and turned around, offering Harry his hand. He smiled down at him warily and mouthed “Sorry”, but Harry shook his head dismissively and smiled brightly, taking Louis’ hand and standing up beside him.

“Guys, this is my friend Harry.”

Zayn and Liam looked at each other with manic grins as soon as the name “Harry” had come out of Louis’ mouth. When they directed their attention back to the pair by the couch, Louis was sure that Harry had to be terrified by their expressions. They looked like they were plotting out which spices would be best to season Harry with after they shove him into the oven Hansel and Gretel style.

“Harry!” Liam squealed, grabbing Harry’s hand and shaking it with the haste of a kid who’s had far too much sugar, “It’s nice to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you.” When Louis shot him dagger eyes, Liam amended his statement, “I mean—we’ve heard _a little_ about you!” Louis shut his eyes tightly in exasperated embarrassment.

“Right,” Louis coughed, “Harry these are my flatmates, Li—”

“ _And_ best friends,” Liam interrupted.

“ _And_ best friends,” Louis repeated, “Liam and Zayn.”

Zayn walked around the coffee table, and pulled a very surprised Harry into a tight hug, which, yeah. This was going well. By the time these introductions are over, Harry might be too scared to ever come back.

“I’m so happy to meet you, bro,” Zayn said, stepping back.

“You too!” Harry smiled. And wow, Harry was very good at pretending to not be traumatized. He looked genuinely happy to meet Zayn. He glanced back at Liam. “You too, Liam. I mean—it’s nice meeting both of you. And if you want to watch the rest of the movie with us, we wouldn’t mind!” Then he looked back to Louis, whose hand he was still tightly grasping, “I mean, _I_ wouldn’t mind,” he gave Louis a questioning look.

“Yeah, we could order a pizza or something,” Louis offered.

“Yes!” Liam and Zayn said in unison, immediately claiming seats on the smaller couch and the armchair respectively.

Louis and Harry sat back down on their couch, skipping the part where they leave space between them and going directly for a tight cuddle.

And that’s how the rest of the night went. They sat around the telly, eating double cheese pizza, and occasionally swapping stories. When The Proposal ended, they watched a few episodes of The Office, the four of them cackling wildly at the show. When the third episode ended, Harry took out his phone, checking the time.

“I should probably get going, Niall will be worried about me,” Harry laughed.

Louis stood up and helped Harry off the couch, “I’ll walk you out.” Harry nodded and followed Louis towards the door.

“Goodbye! It was nice meeting you both,” he waved to Zayn and Liam.

“You too. Come back soon!” Liam exclaimed, “We need to watch more Sandra Bullock movies. How bout Speed? Or maybe Miss Congeniality! You can bring your flatmate next time, it’ll be great!” he said excitedly.

“Yeah, and we could get Chinese takeaway!” Zayn added.

“Sounds good to me!” Harry smiled.

Louis and Harry walked out to his car and stood on the driveway, both looking at each other, considering what to say.

“Louis,”

“Harry, I—”

They said at the same time. They both giggled before Louis spoke again, “Go ahead.”

“I just wanted to say that I had a really great time tonight. And I was being serious when I said that I want to do it again. Like with Zayn, and Liam, and Niall. And you, of course,” he laughed, “I mean, obviously with you.”

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Louis smiled, before rushing his next words out, “I did too! I mean, I had a great time as well, if that wasn’t obvious. And I want to do it again too, whenever you want, wherever you want, with whoever you want.”

Harry smiled at him and opened his mouth before quickly closing it again, like he was hesitating to say something.

“What?” Louis asked.

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” Harry looked at the ground, his curls cascading around his face.

Louis put his index finger underneath Harry’s chin and tipped it up, so that he could look him in the eyes, “Hey,” he said softly, “I told you not to worry about what I think.”

“No, it’s _really_ stupid,” Harry laughed, “I was just gonna ask if I can tell Niall that this was a date.”

Louis laughed and dropped his hand from Harry’s face. Wow, this day has really gone much better than Louis expected it would.

“I asked Lottie the same thing and she told me ‘it’s absolutely a date’ and to text her all the details when it’s over.” They both laughed loudly, until Louis spoke again, a bit more seriously, “We can call this whatever you want, Harry. If you want it to be a date, then we’ll call it a date.”

“I want it to be a date,” Harry decided.

Louis sighed in relief, “Thank God. That would’ve been an embarrassing text.”

Harry giggled and reached for his door handle. “To be honest, I already told Niall that this was a date. I was just making sure that I didn’t tell him a lie.”

Louis laughed again and stepped closer to Harry. He placed a kiss on his cheek and stepped back, looking into Harry’s eyes. “You didn’t tell him a lie,” he confirmed, “Have a good night, Harry. And drive safely.”

“You know I always do,” Harry smiled. He climbed into his car, but looked back at Louis before he closed the door. “And you have a good night too. Tell Lottie I said hi,” he closed the door and pulled out of the driveway, waving to Louis as he took off.

Louis didn’t go inside until Harry’s car disappeared down the street. As he walked closer to the flat, he heard feet scuttling across the wood away from the door. He walked in, heading straight for the living room, where he knew Zayn and Liam would be sitting and pretending to not have just eavesdropped.

“What’s up?” Zayn asked casually, looking at the telly screen with an overacted interest in the hair removal treatment that was being advertised.

Louis laughed at Liam, who was panting in the armchair, probably the result of the quick sprint he had just made away from the door.

“Oh, give a rest! I know you were watching me through the peephole, you idiots!”

“ _I_ wasn’t,” Liam said indignantly through his heavy breathing, “Zayn never let me look through it! I just had to stand by the door and listen to his narration,” he pouted.

“Hey! There was only room for one person to watch, and I wasn’t about to take turns! We might’ve missed something during the switch! Besides, my narration was flawless,” Zayn shrugged.

“Oh my God,” Louis rolled his eyes, “You couldn’t even hear us! What could you possibly be narrating?” he asked, a bit nervously.

“Oh, you know, like ‘Louis caresses Harry’s chin as a light breeze tousles their hair’,” Liam answered.

“Oh my God, stop!” Louis buried his face in his hands, “Never say ‘caresses’ again,” he mumbled, “You guys are the worst. And no one says ‘tousles’!”

Louis took a seat on the couch and closed his eyes. After about twenty seconds of silence, Liam cleared his throat obnoxiously. Louis squinted his eyes open, glaring at him.

“So, are you gonna tell us about your date, or—”

“Liam!”

“What?! I’m curious! And nosy!”

“You were present for 75 percent of the date. You have nothing to be curious or nosy about,” Louis said flatly.

“Except for the 25 percent of the date that we weren’t present for!” Zayn responded.

“Yeah, and based on the racy scene that I walked in on, that 25 percent was very… eventful,” Liam smirked.

“Oh my God,” Louis sighed, “We didn’t do anything, okay? I mean, maybe we were going to kiss, I don’t know. But, the point is, we didn’t do anything. He fell asleep on my shoulder and I woke him up about a minute before you guys got back from work.”

“He fell asleep on your shoulder?” Liam squealed, “You know what that means!”

Louis blinked at him confusedly, “What does that mean?”

Liam tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at him as if he couldn’t believe that Louis didn’t know what that meant. “It means that Harry’s very comfortable in your presence!” Liam exclaimed.

“Or that he was tired. Or bored,” Louis added, but it went mostly unheard since Liam started talking over him.

“I read somewhere that, unless you’re extremely sleep deprived, you can only easily fall asleep in places that you’re truly comfortable in,” Liam said seriously.

“Liam, I think that was talking about physically comfortable,” Zayn laughed, “You know, like soft pillows, warm blanket?”

“Whatever!” Liam rolled his eyes, “Semantics. The point is, Harry falling asleep on your shoulder is a good sign. And it’s pretty precious, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask y—”

“I really like him, Louis. He’s much better than you-know-who. He’s nice, and funny, and he invited us to watch The Proposal with you, how sweet was that?” Liam glanced to Zayn for confirmation.

“It was very sweet,” Zayn agreed somewhat mockingly. He turned to Louis, “Seriously though, he’s a pretty cool guy. I hope you don’t do something stupid to screw it up.”

“Thanks for the support, Zayn,” Louis glared.

“I just meant—like, I can tell he really likes you. And I don’t want you to psyche yourself into thinking that you’re not good enough for him or that he’s gonna turn out to be another Sam.” Louis cringed at the mention of his ex-boyfriend. “Because Harry’s not like him. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but I can tell that he’s definitely not like him,” Zayn finished.

Louis thought about what to say next. He wanted this conversation to end, but he also knew that Zayn and Liam meant well. They’re honestly the greatest friends Louis could ask for, even if they’re determined to know every facet and detail of Louis’ life. He decided to be honest.

“I want this,” Louis said, both to himself and to his friends, “I want Harry—if he wants me, obviously. So, I’m not gonna screw it up,” he stated conclusively, “And if you ever think that I’m on the verge of screwing it up, I give you permission to put me in line.” Zayn and Liam smiled at him. “So let’s stop talking about this and watch another episode of The Office.”

 

\------

 

After another four episodes of the show, the boys called it a night and headed upstairs. Louis brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas, before plopping down face first in the center of his bed. He smiled at how unexpectedly awesome his day turned out to be.

After about a minute of blissful relaxation, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Louis groaned and took it out, a new text message notification from Lottie flashing on his screen.

_hey! it’s me, lottie. you know, your favorite sister. the one who you’ve apparently forgotten all about, since you promised to text me after your date!_

Louis racked his memory for a time that he promised Lottie _anything_ , but another text message arrived and interrupted him.

_is he still there?! louis tomlinson, it’s almost midnight! this kind of behavior is unacceptable!_

Louis was halfway through typing a reply when he received another text.

_I’m totally kidding, I hope you two are getting it on._

He considered what to say, deciding that he was definitely in the mood to mess with his sister.

**harry says ‘hi’**

Louis cackled as a stream of confused, excited texts from Lottie blew up his phone.

_oh my god, he’s actually there?!_

_what are you guys doing so late at night??? ;)_

_I’m actually freaking out, you need to text me back_

_if you don’t text me back in the next 30 seconds, I’m assuming you two are doing the do._

_HOLY SHIT, IT’S BEEN 30 SECONDS! I’m screaming! I need to text niall._

_I think this is the best day of my life._


	4. Chapter 4

Harry closed the door of his flat and hung up his jacket, heading straight to the couch after another long day of work.

It had been four days since his date with Louis. It had also been four days since he last saw Louis, which, yeah. That sort’ve sucked.

They had been texting nonstop since the date, and Louis has said multiple times that Harry and Niall are welcome to come over any day after he and his flatmates get home from work. The issue was that Harry himself hasn’t been able to make it home before 8 any day this week, and by the time he does get home, he’s about ready to die from exhaustion.

It was the middle of November, which meant that it was dangerously close to the holiday season, which meant that everyone and their mothers were preparing for parties, which meant that everyone and their mothers were in need of floral arrangements, which meant that Harry was swamped at work.

Niall was so excited about the prospect of Sandra Bullock night that he had almost gone to Louis’ flat on his own. Multiple times. Harry practically had to lock Niall in their own flat every night to stop him from driving around London until he found Louis’ address.

Harry couldn’t blame him. He, too, was struggling to not drive over to Louis’ in the middle of the night. He missed him. And he loved Sandra Bullock. And he was also slightly worried that Louis would forget about him while he was drowning in floral consultations, or change his mind about wanting to see Harry ever again.

When Harry made it to the living room, Niall was already sat on one of the couches watching football replays and eating crisps. His eyes lit up upon seeing that Harry was home.

“Harry! I was starting to think you were never coming back!” Niall shouted happily, before his expression turned to confusion. He looked down to his wristwatch. “Jesus, it’s almost 11!”

“Sorry, Ni. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just the hol—”

“Holiday season, I know,” Niall said, rolling his eyes, “You’re being overworked though, Harry. You can’t have 14 hour workdays all the way through New Year’s.”

“I know,” Harry said as he plopped down on the couch beside Niall and grabbed the bag of crisps from him.

“It’s unhealthy, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. But most importantly, it’s interfering with Sandra Bullock night!”

Harry glared at him. “I want Sandra Bullock night just as much as you do. Louis probably thinks I’m the rudest person alive,” he groaned and let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes in frustration.

Niall turned to his friend. “We’ve been over this,” he said carefully, “First of all, Louis is very understanding, and, as such, he _understands_ that you have a job that sometimes sucks a lot. Secondly, any idiot can tell that Louis is completely, totally, 100 percent gone for you, so—”

“Niall!”

Niall was right, they _had_ been over this. All week, Harry’s been sharing his concerns that, by postponing Sandra Bullock night, Louis will think he’s rude or disinterested. Harry’s not normally an insecure person. Like at all. He’s actually very confident in a completely non-arrogant way. But for some reason, he’s nervous about everything when it comes to Louis. Not because Louis makes him feel insecure, because he never has, it’s more so because he wants so badly for things to work out with Louis, and he doesn’t want to screw anything up.

“Do you want me to talk to that Elizabeth woman for you? The mean one?” Niall asked seriously, pulling Harry from his thoughts.

Harry laughed at the thought of his boss and Niall arguing over Harry’s unjust work hours.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m gonna talk to her tomorrow. Maybe I can convince her to make someone else train the interns,” Harry said. _Or maybe I can just quit_ , he mused.

Harry loved the actual working aspect of his job. He loved helping brides find the perfect centerpieces for their receptions, and helping men find just the right flowers to buy for their significant others’ birthdays. He loved arranging bouquets and displays and centerpieces; he loved doing anything that involved flowers, really.

He hated just about everything else about his job. He hated the building that he worked in, which looked less like a flower shop and more like an art gallery, almost completely void of anything floral (aside from his office, which he made sure to decorate with an obscene amount of flowers). He hated—well, ok, he didn’t _hate_ his coworkers. That’s a bit harsh. He just strongly disliked pretty much all of them. He especially strongly disliked his boss, and not just because she banned his favorite flowers, although that _was_ incredibly annoying. She was a coldhearted business woman who cared more about the money behind the business than the happiness of her clients.

He wasn’t about to quit his job though. EMFD was one of the most well-respected floral design companies in the world, and Harry loved floral design. He wanted to do it for the rest of his life, he just hoped that he didn’t have to do it at _EMFD_ for the rest of his life. Not to mention the fact that it paid well. And Harry needed money if he ever wanted to open his own flower shop. One that’s jam-packed with flowers. One that put clients above everything else.

“Oh, there’s a package downstairs for you,” Niall said, his attention turned back to the telly.

Harry squinted his eyes in confusion. “A package?”

“Yeah, I got the email notification a couple hours ago but I was too lazy to get off my ass,” Niall laughed.

Harry was too confused to join in the laughter. “Are you sure it’s not yours?

Niall pulled up the email and held his phone up to Harry. “Unless my name changed to Harry Styles overnight, the package is yours. Though I can’t say I’m not disappointed… I’ve always been jealous of your last name. It’s so sophisticated.”

“But I didn’t order anything,” Harry explained, ignoring Niall’s antics, “And my mum usually texts me when she sends something.”

Niall jumped up excitedly, seeming to have forgotten all about his aforementioned laziness. “A mystery package? Let’s go to the lobby and pick it up together!”

Niall grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him towards the door, away from the couch that he so desperately wanted to glue himself to for the rest of the night.

“Niall, it’s probably just a phonebook or something. Nothing to get excited about,” Harry muttered as Niall dragged him through the halls of their apartment complex.

“A phonebook, Harry? Last time I checked, we don’t live in the 1600s.”

“Phones weren’t even inv—oof!” he ran into Niall, who had skidded to a halt in front of the reception desk.

Mr. Jenkins, the receptionist, smiled at them from behind his computer. He was an old man with glasses similar to Harry Potter’s, except they were gold rimmed, and he almost exclusively wore tweed suits with bowties. Harry and Niall loved him. He reminded Harry of his grandpa, kindhearted and generous. The two were pretty sure that they were Mr. Jenkins’ favorite residents, too. For Christmas last year, he had given them each a gift card and a batch of cookies that his wife had made them (all of which Niall had gobbled down almost immediately upon receiving).

“Mr. Horan, Mr. Styles,” he nodded in greeting, then directed his focus to Harry, “Are you here for your package?”

“Yes! That’s exactly why he’s here,” Niall answered giddily.

Mr. Jenkins smiled at Niall’s enthusiasm and stood from his chair. He grabbed a package checkout form from the filing cabinet and handed it to Harry.

“Go ahead and sign this while I grab them from the back,” he handed the form to Harry and headed to the room behind him.

“Did he just say ‘them’?” Harry didn’t think it was possible, but he was now even more confused.

“Maybe it’s _multiple_ phonebooks—”

“Oh, shut up!” 

They both cackled as Harry signed the form. When Niall abruptly stopped laughing, Harry looked up to his friend’s face, which was in a state of pure shock. Harry followed his line of vision to Mr. Jenkins, who had returned from the room and was now headed back to the desk. Harry’s jaw dropped in an expression similar to Niall’s as he realized what he was carrying.

It was a giant vase of English roses.

Giant, as in freaking _huge_. The flowers covered the entire top half of Mr. Jenkins’ body easily. They were long-stemmed and placed in an intricately designed glass vase. An intricately designed, _expensive_ glass vase. The flowers were multicolored and absolutely gorgeous, and there was a tiny folded note placed carefully in the middle of the blossoms.

Harry was in a state of utter disbelief. So was Niall. Both of them stood unmoving, Niall glancing comically between Harry and the flowers, Harry staring straight at the note, unblinking.

Mr. Jenkins cleared his throat, “Umm… Sirs?”

Niall broke out of his shock and into laughter when he realized that Mr. Jenkins actually couldn’t see over the roses, and was waiting expectantly for someone to take them.

Harry, however, was still stunned, and didn’t think he would be able to move for the rest of his life.

Thankfully, Niall took the vase and thanked the old man.

“Well, let’s go, Har—”

“Were these sent to me, or… did someone drop them off?” Harry asked with a tinge of hopefulness, breaking his silence and interrupting Niall.

Mr. Jenkins smiled knowingly, “They were dropped off, Mr. Styles.”

“Do you remember what the person looked like?” he asked. _Please, please, be from who I think they’re from_ , Harry silently prayed. He knew he could just read the note and find out for himself, but he was honestly on the brink of tears from the sight of the flowers alone. Reading a note, especially if it was from who he thought it was… Mr. Jenkins would probably have to lend Harry his handkerchief.

“It was a boy about your age with light brown hair. He had on a jumper from one of those hip brands you kids wear these days,” he gestured disinterestedly, “Nike? No that wasn’t it. Hmm… I can’t seem to remem—”

“Adidas?” Harry asked with an embarrassing amount of desperation and hopefulness.

“Yes! That’s the one!” Mr. Jenkins said excitedly, as Harry’s heart burst with happiness, “Anyways, he was very nice. Reminded me of you kids, actually,” he nodded at the memory, “It’s not every day you meet a twenty-something with manners.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Jenkins,” Harry said in a rush.

He waved to the old man and grabbed Niall by his elbow, since his hands were occupied with the massive vase. Deciding that the stairs were probably out of the question given Niall’s current load, he guided them to the lift, hitting the “4” button. He slumped against the wall and exhaled, a giant smile taking over his face. He was no longer tired from his ridiculously long work day, he was just unbelievably, indescribably, happy.

Niall peaked his head out from behind the roses, “You alright, mate?” he was smiling, but in that I-know-you’re-totally-freaking-out sort of way.

“Stop,” Harry laughed.

“What?!” Niall said with mock indignation, “I’m just making sure my best mate hasn’t been wooed to death by Louis Tomlinson!”

The lift doors opened and the two started down the hall to their flat.

“We’re not even positive that they’re from Louis,” Harry argued, even though he knew it was a losing battle.

“Oh, give me a break! A nice boy with brown hair gives you an unreasonably oversized vase full of your very favorite flowers, _and_ he’s wearing Adidas? But his name’s _not_ Louis Tomlinson?” Niall shot him an unconvinced look from behind the roses as Harry unlocked their door.

They walked into the kitchen and Harry helped Niall lower the gigantic vase onto the table. Both of them stepped back and admired the flowers for a moment.

“You know, if you read the note, you’ll know for sure who they’re from,” Niall baited.

Harry nodded and exhaled before gently taking the note from the center of the roses and unfolding it.

_Harry,_

_I know you’re very busy with work, given the upcoming holiday season, so I’ll try to make this quick._

_I heard that you were worried about having to postpone Sandra Bullock night, which is adorable, but also unnecessary, because I completely understand that you’re a hardworking man, and neither I, nor Sandra Bullock would expect you to choose us over your job._

_I just wanted to say that I’m so glad I met you by the toilets that night, even if the events that led to meeting you were sort of terrible. I’ve only known you for 5 days, but, according to Zayn and Liam, my attitude has already improved dramatically. They say that in the short time you’ve known me, you’ve managed to make me less “Scrooge-like”, which I guess is a compliment? I don’t know, but I do know that I love talking to you and I really don’t ever want to stop. (If that’s ok with you.)_

_I realize that I could have said all of this on a text, or over the phone, or better yet, in person, but I really, really wanted to get you English roses (since I think their banishment from your workplace is an extreme injustice), and if I said all of that on a text, or over the phone, or in person, I wouldn’t have had anything to say on this cute little note._

_I hope these flowers made you smile at least a little, even though I wouldn’t be there to see your lovely dimples if you did, which sucks, but whatever._

_By the way, you never told me which color you like best, so I just ordered a variety of them, I hope that’s ok._

_Whenever you’ve got time, Sandra and I (and Zayn and Liam) will be waiting for you, the door’s open. Well, it’s not actually open, because that would be unsafe, but just knock, and I’ll let you in._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Louis Tomlinson_

Harry folded the note back up and sniffled, wiping the tears off his face. He had started happy-crying after the first sentence. Louis was the best. The absolute best.

He turned to Niall, who had been reading the note over Harry’s shoulder, interjecting “aww” and “how cute!” when appropriate.

Niall pulled Harry into a tight hug, rubbing his back as he continued to sniffle.

“I need to go there,” Harry said determinedly into Niall’s neck, after a few minutes of embracing.

Niall stepped back and tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows knit together, “Go where?”

“To Louis’ flat,” Harry said, as if the answer was obvious, because it was.

“Right now?! It’s almost midnight!”

“I need to go,” Harry said, grabbing his jacket.

Niall sighed exasperatedly and followed Harry, taking his car keys out of a dish near the door. “I’ll drive you. You’re running on like 5 hours of sleep and are in no condition to be behind a wheel,” Niall said, “The things I do for love…” he muttered under his breath as he walked out the door.

Honestly, Harry had never felt more awake, but he appreciated Niall’s concern. He figured it would be better if his friend drove anyways, just in case Harry got distracted by any Louis Tomlinson fantasies his brain might cook up.

Harry had no clue what he was going to say to Louis once he got there. He didn’t even know if it was appropriate to go to his flat at midnight on a Wednesday. It probably wasn’t, but he was too caught up on the fact that Louis bought him English roses to even care at this point.

No one had ever bought Harry English roses. Not even Landon, his ex-boyfriend. And Harry had dropped about a million hints that they were his favorite, so there was no excuse for his ex’s lack of English rose-giving. The fact that Louis had bought them for him… the fact that Louis had even remembered Harry saying anything about them when Louis couldn’t tell a dandelion from a hibiscus, it meant everything. And Harry wanted to tell him that.

So, he was going to Louis’ flat at midnight on a Wednesday, looking like an absolute piece of trash, with a half-arsed plan of what to say and absolutely no idea how Louis would take it.

Niall turned to Harry as they approached his car, “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

 

++++++

 

Louis was sitting in his pajamas on the couch, watching football replays, when he heard a timid knock on the door.

He squinted his eyes in confusion. Liam and Zayn were already in bed, and he was fairly certain that it was after midnight.

His eyes widened. _Am I being robbed?!_ He wondered for the second time that week.

The last time he thought it, it was the middle of the day and it was just his flatmates getting back from work. This time, it was late at night and he actually had no idea who it was. The possibility of it really being a robber was much higher this time around.

Louis glanced around the room, searching for an impromptu weapon. He settled on the silver candlestick Liam’s mum had sent them as a housewarming gift, grabbing it and tiptoeing toward the door.

He thought about waking Liam and Zayn up, but decided against it (only because he was too thick to tell them that he was scared). If he died tonight, he would die with his dignity. And a candlestick, apparently.

Louis slinked against the wall of the entry hall, candlestick in hand, like a character in a Bond film. His back was pressed against the wall, which was highly unnecessary, since the only window in the room was above the door and a person would have to be a giant to see through it, but Louis’ never been known to pass up an opportunity in which he can pretend to be a spy.

He crept over to the door, squatting low, and slowly brought himself to peephole-level. He read once somewhere that robbers shoot through the peephole of unsuspecting victims sometimes, so he needed to be cautious. If he quickly passed his eye over the glass, he should be fine.

 _Ok_ , he thought, _on the count of three. 1…. 2…. 3!_

In one swift motion, he moved his head to the right, quickly glancing through the glass, before making it to the other side.

He sighed in relief and released a quiet laugh.

He hadn’t seen a man in a ski mask carrying empty sacks and weapons.

He’d seen Harry Styles.

Louis hurriedly unlocked the door and opened it. Upon seeing Louis, Harry broke out into a smile, dimples on full display. He launched himself forward, wrapping his long arms around Louis’ waist and burying his face in Louis’ neck.

“Lou…” He mumbled against Louis’ skin.

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him closer. When he felt his shoulder dampen with what could only be tears (or drool, but he was pretty sure it was tears), he attempted to untangle himself. Harry grunted in disapproval and squeezed Louis tighter. Ok, so letting go wasn’t an option.

“Are you alright?” he whispered into Harry’s ear.

Harry chuckled wetly into Louis’ neck and pulled back, releasing him from his death grip. Louis immediately missed Harry’s warmth.

“I’m more than alright, I’m—” Harry glanced down to Louis’ hand with a confused look, “Are you holding a candlestick?”

“What?” Louis looked down to his own hand where, sure enough, he was holding a candlestick. _Oh yeah._ “Oh, it’s just—I thought you were a robber,” Louis explained with a chuckle.

He looked back up to find a distressed Harry.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked, pushing his hair back anxiously, “I’m sorry—I just, I didn’t get home from work until late, again, and that’s when I got your flowers, and I really wanted to see you. I know you have to work tomorrow, I can leave—”

“Hey, c’mere," Louis interrupted Harry’s rambling and opened his arms back up. Harry visibly calmed, latching his arms back around Louis’ waist. “You didn’t wake me up and I don’t have to be at work until 9 tomorrow. Please don’t leave, you just got here,” he pressed his lips to the space directly behind Harry’s ear, placing a soft kiss in his hair.

“Thank you for the roses, Lou,” he said quietly, “I love them, so, so much. I’ve been trying to think of a way to preserve them for the rest of my life, because I can’t bear the thought of them dying,” he giggled.

Louis laughed, shaking both of their bodies. “When they die, I’ll bring you some more,” he said sincerely. He was willing to buy Harry English roses for the rest of eternity, if that’s what he wanted. “Are you sure you’re alright? Nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened. I just—I missed you,” he cuddled farther into Louis, and the pair were silent for a moment before Harry continued, “And I feel bad for postponing Sandra Bullock night,” he rushed out.

“Harry—”

“I know you said not to worry about that, but I can’t help it! I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to spend time with you! Because I _do_ want to spend time with you. Like _a lot_ of time with you.”

“Haz,” Louis moved his hands to Harry’s shoulders and took a step back, so he could look him in the eyes, “Listen to me. I never thought that you were avoiding me, okay? I know that you’re busy at work, and that’s okay. I was serious when I said that there’s no rush,” he looked down to his thumbs, which were gently massaging Harry’s collarbones, “And in case it wasn’t obvious, I want to spend time with you too. Even if that can only be achieved on Wednesdays at midnight,” Louis glanced back up to Harry, who was looking down at him with a grateful expression, before it turned into something a little more… heavy.

Harry’s eyes flickered down to Louis’ lips, just like they had the other night on the couch before Liam interrupted them.

This time, there were no interruptions.

Harry surged forward, kissing Louis with reckless abandon, as if he’d been waiting to do it for forever and he was afraid he wouldn’t have the chance to do it again. It was nothing more than a hard, desperate press of lips, but Louis was on the verge of melting from the sensation. Before he could process what was happening, the kiss was over. Harry rested his forehead against Louis’, breathing heavily.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry asked quietly, “Please?”

Louis chuckled because, unless he had dreamt the last ten seconds, Harry already _had_ kissed him.

Louis’ always been an “actions speak louder than words” type guy, so he slowly placed his hands on either side of Harry’s face and leaned in. This time, when their lips met, Louis had time to process it. The kiss was much slower, more careful.

It felt wonderful. Like fireworks, and waterfalls, and all those other cliché things. Louis thought it felt a bit like scoring a goal in footie, like he could feel the adrenaline rush through him and he could hear the crowd cheering faintly in the background. (And yeah, it might be a little strange to have an audience cheering in his head as he made out with someone, but whatever. He’s never been good with similes.)

Harry walked them forward, never once breaking contact. He placed one hand behind Louis’ head before pressing him against the wall, the other dropped to his waist, softly squeezing Louis’ curves. Harry deepened the kiss and Louis moaned, which, he should probably quiet down a little if they wanted to avoid any more awkward moments with Liam. Louis’ hands slid off Harry’s shoulders and attached behind his neck. He latched onto Harry’s bottom lip, nibbling lightly, and now it was Harry’s turn to moan.

After a few more moments of pleasure, they separated to catch their breath, their foreheads pressed against each other once again.

“Shit,” Harry said, between pants. Louis glanced up, and started to panic upon seeing Harry’s worried look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tenderly scratching the hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry got distracted by the feeling, closing his eyes and releasing a soft sound of approval. “Harry?” Louis tried again.

“Sorry, I just remembered that Niall’s outside waiting for me. I told him I was just gonna thank you.”

Louis’ eyes widened as he blew air through rounded lips. “Hold on,” he laughed, “You mean to tell me that Niall’s been sitting in the car this entire time? While we’ve been fooling around?”

Louis couldn’t contain himself. He couldn’t shake the mental picture of Niall sitting on the driveway, bored to death waiting for Harry to come out, while Harry was inside canoodling with Louis. It was like a teenager asking his mum for a lift to get some action.

As Louis continued to chuckle, Harry pouted his lips out like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

“Heyyyyyy.”

He looked adorable and Louis couldn’t help but place a chaste kiss on his puckered lips.

“Sorry, love. The imagery is just too much,” he brushed a piece of stray hair behind Harry’s ear, “You shouldn’t keep him waiting though. And you’ve got work in the morning. You’re wasting your precious sleeping hours on me.”

Harry hugged Louis for what felt like the trillionth time that night, which, honestly Louis never wanted to stop hugging Harry, so he was good with a trillion.

“You’re not a waste,” he whispered into Louis’ neck, ”Ugh…,” he groaned, “I don’t want to go.”

Louis’ heart swelled in his chest. He kissed the top of Harry’s curls and hugged him tighter. “I don’t want you to go either, but I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Harry untangled himself and looked into Louis’ eyes. “Definitely,” he smiled, “Would Friday work for you? You know, for Sandra Bullock night?”

“Friday is perfect,” Louis confirmed.

“Alright,” Harry exhaled.

“Alright.”

“I guess I should go.”

“Okay,” Louis squeezed his hand, “Tell Niall to drive safely. I don’t know how qualified of a driver he is, did he pass his test in three tries or under?”

Harry laughed, “I’ll be fine. He’s not as amazing of a driver as me, but we’ll make it home alive.”

They walked to the door and Louis tried not to cry at the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see Harry for the rest of the night. He’d invite him to stay, but he didn’t want to be too forward—even if he was practically dying for a chance to just lay in bed with Harry and cuddle. He had to tone it down though, he didn’t want to rush Harry into anything.

“Goodbye,” he kissed Harry on the cheek, “I’ll see you Friday.”

Harry looked breathless and a little bit sad to be leaving, which, he was gonna have to stop looking like that unless he wanted Louis to attach their lips together permanently.

“Goodbye, Louis,” he quirked the left side of his mouth up in a tiny smile before opening the door and walking back to his car.

Louis laughed at his view of Niall through the driver’s window. The blond was half asleep, startling when Harry opened his door. He dropped the magazine he was reading on his face and started looking around frantically as if someone had hit him. Louis was now legitimately concerned about Harry getting home in one piece.

Once their car was out of sight, Louis closed the door and locked it. He leaned his back against the door and slid down to his bum, exhaling slowly.

_What the hell just happened?_

Louis needed a few minutes (or days) to process the fact the he and Harry had just kissed in the middle of his entry hall at midnight on a Wednesday, when he thought he was being robbed.

What a turn of events.

The weird thing was that it didn’t feel weird at all. It felt like kissing Harry was completely normal, something they do all the time. It was definitely something Louis could get used to.

He considered waking up Zayn and Liam to tell them how great his night turned out to be, but decided that he wasn’t in the mood to get griped at. Instead, he went upstairs, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling fan with a smile occupying his entire face.

He didn’t fall asleep for another hour and half, too excited about the kiss and about Harry in general, but when he did, he was grinning like a fool.

 

\------

 

When Friday finally rolled around, Louis couldn’t get home from work fast enough. He had practically hauled Zayn and Liam out of Headquarters (since they decided to carpool for the day), and had driven like a madman on the way back to their flat.

The three were now settled in the living room watching telly while waiting for Harry and Niall to arrive.

Louis cleared his throat, “So, before they get here, I was thinking we could go over a few… house rules.”

Louis didn’t want Sandra Bullock night to become let’s-bring-up-every-humiliating-thing-Louis-has-ever-done night. And he _really_ didn’t want a repeat of Liam’s “We’ve heard so much about you!” mortification. Maybe he could quickly whip up a list of all the things his flatmates were allowed to talk about? That could work.

“House rules?” Zayn questioned, his eyebrows knit together.

“Yeah—you know, like sort out the things we should or shouldn’t say. Or do,” Louis clarified, “Like, in front of Harry and Niall.”

Zayn and Liam seemed to understand what Louis was getting at, releasing an exasperated “Oh my God…” and “Are you serious?” respectively.

“We’re not gonna say anything embarrassing, Lou,” Liam insisted, “We did fine the last time Harry came over, didn’t we?” he raised his eyebrows, expecting an answer from Louis.

“I mean, I guess so…,” Louis supplied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so nervous,” Zayn mused.

Louis sighed, deciding to come clean.

“It’s just, this—this thing, between Harry and I, it’s new,” Louis said honestly, “And I really want it to work out. Which means that he can’t leave our flat thinking that I talk about him 24/7.”

“You do talk about him 24/7,” Liam deadpanned.

“Right, but I don’t want him to know that,” Louis glared at his friend, “Haven’t you guys ever been in the awkward stage of a relationship?”

Before they could answer, a knock on the door sounded, causing Louis’ heartrate to increase tenfold.

 _That’s weird_ , he thought, _they’re not supposed to be here for another half hour_.

Figuring they were probably just a bit early, Louis stood up and straightened out his clothes. After debating what to wear for about an hour, he had finally settled on a pair of joggers and a simple black Adidas [jumper](http://i.imgur.com/qXeo2GP.png?1) with a red logo. He figured casual was the best way to go for a movie night.

He turned to his friends, “How do I look?”

“Great!” Liam exclaimed, before Zayn let out a “Fantastic.”

In all honesty, Louis knew he looked terrible. He had been a nervous wreck all day and he’d broken out into a cold sweat the second he heard the knock.

He walked to the entry hall and nervously adjusted his fringe once more, before releasing a heavy exhale and opening the door.

“Surprise!”

It wasn’t Harry and Niall.

“Lottie?!” He smiled and pulled his sister into a tight embrace, “What are you doing here?”

She was wearing a patterned black Adidas track [jacket](http://i.imgur.com/Vb0UjPC.png?1) and Louis silently laughed because, honestly, the Tomlinsons should have an official partnership with the company. Her silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was carrying two duffel bags.

“I heard about Sandra Bullock night and took the next train to London," She shrugged.

“How did you hear about—Niall told you,” Louis answered his own question.

He was beginning to understand that Lottie and Niall had some kind of communication system going on in which they apparently discussed everything related to Louis and Harry, which was a little weird, but whatever.

“Yep. Also, I told mum I was spending the weekend at my friend’s so, you know, don’t rat me out.”

“Never,” Louis smiled and took her bags, “Go ahead and grab a seat, I’ll go put these in my room.”

Lottie thanked him and walked into the living room as Louis headed upstairs. When he made it to his room, he heard Zayn and Liam’s voices happily greeting his sister.

Before he could even make it back downstairs, another knock sounded at the door. Louis was suddenly nervous again. Unless any other surprise guests were planning to show up, it had to be Harry and Niall. He deposited Lottie’s bags on his bed and started to make his way back to the entry hall. When he got to the top of the steps, he saw that Lottie had already answered the door and was now pulling Harry into a tight embrace.

“Harry!” she squealed, probably shattering Harry’s ear drum, “It’s so good to see you again!”

Harry smiled and patted her back gently, “You too, Lots. I didn’t even know you were gonna be here!”

“Neither did I,” Louis said, descending the rest of the stairs. Harry’s eyes widened over Lottie’s shoulder upon noticing Louis, “She sort’ve has a habit of showing up places without an invitation.”

Lottie released Harry and scowled at Louis, “Oh please, you know you missed me.”

“Lottie, I saw you exactly a week ago.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes lightheartedly, “Come on, Niall, let’s go get seats before all the good ones are taken,” she grabbed the blond’s hand and turned back to give her brother a very indiscreet wink (Louis was silently cursing himself for not going over the house rules with her), leaving Harry and Louis alone in the entry hall.

“Hi,” Louis said, walking up to Harry with a soft smile.

“Hi.”

Unsurprisingly, Harry looked gorgeous. He had on a plain white [t-shirt](http://i.imgur.com/SDPoTaf.png?1) with black skinny jeans, his curls held back by a blue headscarf. He looked effortlessly beautiful and Louis wanted to kiss him again, but he also was painfully aware of the fact that there were four people in the room directly beside them. Four people who would definitely give him and Harry a hard time if they were caught making out in the entry hall.

He settled instead for a hug, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. “Are you ready to spend an entire night with the one and only Sandra Annette Bullock?” he asked, his lips brushing against Harry’s curls.

Harry giggled, “Is her middle name really Annette? Like, Sandrannette?”

“It is,” Louis laughed. He stepped back and took one of Harry’s hands in both of his own, playing with his fingers, “I Googled it earlier, just so that I could deliver that epic line.”

Harry smiled down at where Louis was admiring his massive paw, “Do you have a special employees-only Google database hidden somewhere in your flat?”

Louis laughed again, looking back up to Harry, “Unfortunately, we Google employees are forced to use the very same rudimentary database as all the commoners.”

“That’s absurd!” Harry exclaimed in mock outrage.

“Absolutely ridiculous, I know.”

They both laughed until a female voice shouted at them from the living room.

“Hey! Lovebirds! Are we gonna get started, or what?” Lottie yelled.

Harry blushed and Louis sighed in exasperation. He _really_ should’ve went over the house rules with Lottie.

“Well,” Louis smiled warily, “You heard the woman.”

He pulled Harry into the living room by his hand and they settled down onto the loveseat, the only chair available, probably thanks to Lottie’s scheming. The title menu of Speed was already on the telly screen, just waiting to be played.

Apparently, Lottie had already taken care of introducing Niall to Liam and Zayn. The three were sharing a bowl of popcorn on the larger couch, Niall sandwiched between the two flatmates.

“Let’s get this party started!” Niall shouted as Liam pushed play.

 

++++++

 

Seven and a half hours, four movies, and 3 bags of popcorn later, Harry looked down to the sleeping head on his shoulder and smiled.

It was 2:30 AM, and everyone, _everyone_ , except Harry was sound asleep. Apparently, these people weren’t fans of The Blind Side.

The night was fantastic. Harry had laughed more than he had in months, and seeing Niall get along so well, so easily, with Zayn and Liam made him unreasonably happy.

It was just, he could _see_ this. Like in his future, or in his dreams, or whatever. He could see having late nights with these people, watching movies and eating junk food until it was impossible to keep his eyes open. He wanted to do it all the time. Well, not _all_ the time, but like, a lot of the time.

But right now, it was 2:30 AM, and he and Niall should probably go back to their own flat. As much as he’d love to spend the night on this couch, wrapped up in Louis, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

“Lou,” He gently shook Louis’ shoulder, “Wake up.”

Louis’ nose crinkled adorably and he blinked a couple times, shooting straight up in his chair when he realized that Harry was trying to get his attention.

“Is everything okay?” he asked voice groggy, but concerned nonetheless. He glanced around confusedly at all the sleeping bodies around the living room. Lottie had moved to the floor with a blanket, since the armchair she had been sitting in was not a viable substitute for a bed, and Zayn, Niall, and Liam, were all sleeping in various positions on the longer couch. “What time is it?”

“Everything’s fine,” Harry smiled softly, “And it’s 2:30, I just wanted to say goodbye. You know—in case you hear us at the door and think someone is trying to rob you again.”

Louis giggled quietly and then scanned around the room, as if checking to make sure everyone was still asleep. When he was satisfied with his inspection, he softly placed both hands on either side of Harry’s face and pulled him down into a quick kiss.

It was heaven. Like, Harry was pretty sure he could hear angels singing whenever he and Louis kissed, like some kind of weird, divine soundtrack.

“Sorry,” Louis mumbled against Harry’s lips, “I wanted to do that earlier, but I was afraid Lottie would die of happiness if she saw.”

Harry laughed and pecked Louis again, “That’s okay, it was worth the wait.”

“You can stay you know. Like, here. On this couch. With me. And Niall can stay on that couch over there. With Zayn and Liam. Or, if you’re uncomfortable, you can sleep in my bed—like alone, of course, you don’t have to sleep next to me if you don’t want to. It’s—it’s just late and like, you probably don’t want to drive right now, plus Niall is sleeping. Or, I dunno, you can—”

Harry cut Louis off with another kiss, this one slow and languid. He gently pulled Louis’ bottom lip into his mouth and released it a moment later with a wet pop. He was usually the one who rambled out nonsense for what felt like hours, just waiting for Louis to put him out of his misery. This was a nice change of roles.

“I’d love to stay. On this couch. With you,” Harry teased.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis laughed and pulled Harry closer him.

He sandwiched Louis between the back of the couch and his own body. They were spooned against each other, Louis’ arm wrapped around Harry’s chest. Harry tangled their fingers together and sighed in contentment.

“Are you cold?” Louis whispered against Harry’s ear, “Do you want me to grab you a blanket?”

Harry moved one of his feet between Louis’ calves and pulled Louis’ arm farther up his chest.

“No,” He murmured, “Stay here. Please.”

“Okay,” Louis kissed the crown of Harry’s head and pulled him even closer against him.

“You know,” Harry whispered, “Lottie’s gonna freak when she wakes up and sees this.”

They both giggled, and Harry thought he might die from pure bliss. This night was perfect, just perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) If you have any questions and/or comments, let me know!


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